


Forced Perspective

by MarchofBirds



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fluff, I actually wrote something with a plot?, Light Angst, M/M, Prison AU, The anti-grimdark prison au we all needed, Tonight the part of Han Solo will be played by Anakin Skywalker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2019-09-18 04:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16988313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarchofBirds/pseuds/MarchofBirds
Summary: In the wake of the war, alliances across the galaxy have changed, dynamics shifted. And somehow a small time smuggler and former Jedi general have found themselves in a very similar position. Similarly kriffed, that is.And being stuck in an Empire-run prison with hundreds of the galaxy's most dangerous criminals? Almost as fun as it sounds.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely 100% not At All inspired by Son of a Gun.

 

 

_Questioned and killed, questioned and killed._ Fear may have been regarded as a path to the Dark Side, but a healthy understanding of the probable outcome should one be captured was not. And this was one that loomed in the back of every Jedi’s mind somewhere, especially as the fog of the Dark began clouding even the most powerful Masters visions.

Which was why Ben had never anticipated the position he currently found himself in. At the beginning of what was to have been his third consecutive year in an Empire-run prison.

All things considered, he supposed it could have been worse. The days bled into each other, routine having gone stale a few weeks after his arrival. Other than the questioning he’d endured when they’d first captured him, the guards didn’t treat him any differently than any of the other prisoners. He wasn’t even sure, really, what they were keeping him alive for.

News about the rebellion, or anything really, was so slow to trickle its way down to him it was almost possible to forget that the galaxy had been operating under a fascist regime for the last half decade. Beyond his sole companion from his previous life as a Jedi Knight— one Quinlan Vos, now fellow inmate— Ben had no ties here. He had no idea how many others from the Order had made it out alive, whether they were similarly being held captive or if they’d all been struck down when their clone army turned on them so unexpectedly. 

It wasn’t often that Ben— because that’s who he was now, Jedi general Obi-Wan Kenobi no longer— caught a glimpse of his own reflection. When he did he could admit it was a sorry thing. He’d never been particularly vain, but he had always found a certain satisfaction in keeping himself well-groomed: beard trimmed, robes fresh. Now though, his beard was wild, hair long and unwieldy. 

As for his clothing, well, the always-wrinkled prison uniform was hardly even worth mentioning other than to say that he found it surprisingly comfortable. If anyone from his previous life  _were_  to come across him, Ben wasn’t sure they’d even recognize him now. He could, at least, take a small measure of cold comfort in that.  

 

 

From his very first smuggling job, Anakin knew this had been a possibility— this last job in particular had been especially dangerous. But for an ex-slave with no formal education, options were limited unless he was willing to work for the Empire. And after a decade and a half in forced-labor Anakin valued his freedom far too much to willingly contract his life away.

He supposed he could’ve taken up a job as a mechanic on some planet or other; his mother certainly would’ve preferred that route. But after being stuck on Tatooine for so many years, the prospect of being free to travel the Stars was just too appealing to deny.

The irony of being forced to relinquish his freedom for the very profession that had initially seemed to offer so much of it wasn’t lost on Anakin. Life, he thought bitterly as Storm Troopers swarmed his ship, always had a way of catching up with him.

That there was no trial surprised him about as much as being arrested in the first place; that is to say, not at all. The Emperor hadn’t been in power all that long but even someone with as little experience with policy and politics as Anakin knew fascism when he saw it. He knew taking a job smuggling supplies to the rebellion was pushing it— and the pay hadn’t even been half as good as most of the other jobs he’d taken. Well, no good deed, as they say.

Still, he’d had a good run of it; his only real regret was how much his mother was sure to worry when he missed their weekly call. He comforted himself with the thought that she’d at least have her new husband and family to keep her company. Now all he had to focus on was surviving the next three years. Looking at the roughened faces of the men who were to be his new neighbors, he knew that alone would be enough of a struggle. 

Anakin’s hands were bound in front of him, though thankfully they’d left his feet unshackled. It made little difference practically of course, but he found the slight bit of freedom comforting nonetheless. The shuttle landed outside the prison compound far too soon for Anakin’s liking, though he supposed if they never reached the place it’d still have been too soon. 

The second they touched down, the guards were goading them up and out onto the platform one after another. Anakin tried not to squirm underneath the grip of the guards holding his arms steady as they led him down the ramp off the shuttle. Other than the punch to the jaw that knocked him out cold when his ship was boarded, none of the guards had been particularly cruel. Still though, he didn’t doubt that that could change at a moment’s notice. As it was, the helmeted troopers had remained merely imposing in their silence and identical armor.

“Give it to me straight: how bad is it in there?” He asked the guard to his right, the building tension as they approached the compound becoming too much to bear in silence any longer. Unfortunately, the trooper was unsympathetic to his growing anxiety and remained as stubbornly quiet as he’d been through the rest of the trip.

As soon as the durasteel doors at the front of the building slid open though, Anakin realized right away that he’d miss the silence. His fellow inmates shouted mostly unintelligible jeers toward the stream of fresh meat being marched down the hall toward their cells. Anakin had always had a sharp ear for languages, but in that moment he found himself grateful that the hostile-sounding voices blended together into something mostly incomprehensible.

It was almost hard to pick up on over all the noise, and his own itching discomfort. But the second he stepped past the threshold into the prison, Anakin knew something wasn’t right. Beyond, well,  _everything_ of course. Something, more than the general atmosphere, was physically oppressive about the place. His senses felt suddenly dulled, muted— almost as if someone had pushed his head under water. He breathed deep, trying to shake the feeling to no avail. 

At the end of the impossibly long trek, the troopers lead Anakin into a cell, sliding the door shut behind him. Wordlessly, one of them gestured for him to stick his bound hands through the open slot in the door, allowing them to remove the cuffs. Then they were gone leaving him alone for the first time since he was arrested. Upon realizing that his cell seemed to be empty, Anakin felt a great rush of relief overcome him. Solitude had to be better than being crammed in a tiny cell with whatever manner of violent scum they’d likely house him with.

 

By the time the still-silent guards came to retrieve him for dinner hours later though, he’d begun to rethink his position. He wasn’t sure he could stand three more days without  _someone_ to talk to, let alone three years. The numb feeling that had overcome him when they’d first arrived hadn’t abated, though he wasn’t quite so aware of it as he had been.

As Anakin approached the cafeteria for the first time, the voices filtering out into the hall grew steadily louder. He felt strangely like a youngling on his first day of school.

_Time to meet the rest of the herd,_ he thought with no small amount of trepidation.

 

 

Ben hadn’t heard the Force really  _sing_  since he’d first been marched off in chains and shoved into this prison. The Force dampeners built into the walls were too strong for him to make out more than the vague hum of life. If he concentrated on an individual, he could make out a general impression of their signature, and whether they were Force null, but any more than that eluded him. He’d tried to content himself with that much, knowing they could’ve very easily cut him off from it completely. Maybe someone high up in the Empire realized that would’ve driven him mad in a matter of months; someone, it seemed, wanted him alive and at least nominally sane. 

That was all to say the Force had been a mostly quiet companion since his incarceration— until that morning. He woke with a start, not so much to the sound, but rather the  _feeling_  of an incessant buzzing in the back of his awareness. It was a muted imitation of the warnings he used to get back in his days as a Jedi. The feeling came as such a shock after so long in silence he spent the first half of the day on edge, looking around every corner anxiously for anything out of the ordinary. By the time early evening rolled around with no change in sight, Ben had pushed it to the back of his mind. Perhaps, he thought ruefully, he was finally cracking; he was honestly surprised he’d lasted as long as he had.

As Ben took his usual place next to Quinlan at one of the tables along the back corner of the cafeteria though, the  _buzzing_  returned in full force. He frowned, fingers coming up to massage at his temples.

“You alright?” Quin asked around a bite of the same colorless mush they were served every evening.

“Don’t you feel that?” Ben gritted his teeth in discomfort; the  _warning_  was growing louder.

“Feel what?” Quin however, seemed utterly oblivious.

“It’s like…” Ben struggled to put words to the feeling. “Something’s coming?” He finished lamely.

“Fresh meat was shipped in today,” Quin shrugged.

“I don’t know why you insist on calling them that,” Ben rolled his eyes, glancing around the crowded room. Nothing seemed any more out of order than it ever did. New prisoners were moved in and out all the time; he didn’t see what that could have to do with—

Then he saw him. Or rather  _felt_  his presence. Even with his senses as dulled as they were, the young man was like a sun. His signature radiated power like a generator, almost blinding Ben after so long in the dark. He could only imagine what the other man’s Force signature must look like when he  _wasn’t_  impeded by the dampeners. 

It took him a solid minute of staring to even take in the man’s appearance, he was so entranced by his signature. He was, Ben noticed eventually, quite handsome as well. That was irrelevant, of course, but it wasn’t like Ben could help noticing either.

“Oh he’s cute,” Quin cooed, following Ben’s eye-line. “You finally gonna look for a boyfriend in this place?” 

“Oh shut up Quin,” Ben looked away from the young man to level a glare at his friend. “Can’t you sense how strong he is in the Force? His signature is practically glowing.” 

Quinlan squinted at the man, as if his senses would be sharpened if he only stared hard enough. “I guess he is, huh. After so long in this place I can barely sense anything anymore.” Quin frowned at his own lack of perceptiveness; he wasn’t used to being caught off guard. 

“You and me both,” Ben said sympathetically. Being so disconnected from the Force was like missing a vital part of himself. He could only imagine how Quin must feel, being without his telemetry for so many years. They were Jedi; they adapted. But that didn’t mean it was easy. 

Quin shook his head and flashed a grin at Ben, willing away his sudden bout of melancholy. “So’s this golden boy what’s had you so bent out of shape all day?” 

“Maybe…” Ben bit his lip, eyes darting back over to the young man, finding him easily despite the crowd. “Imagine how strong he must be without the dampeners.” 

“You could go talk to him—but you never know what he’s in here for. Could be a murderer, terrorist—”

“I think not; they’ve got all of  _those_  working for the Empire.”

Quin threw his head back in a loud laugh, mostly lost in the sounds of various conversations around the room. “You’re probably right about that. So, are you gonna say something to him?”

“I…wouldn’t know what  _to_  say. I just have a feeling he’s, I don’t know, important.” At that moment, the young man’s eyes were suddenly on him. He was far enough away that Ben couldn’t even make out their color but he felt pinned by his stare nonetheless. For a good ten seconds, they just looked at each other, hardly daring to blink. Then the other man finally broke eye contact, looking down at his plate instead. 

“Interesting, seems like your boy’s noticed you too,” Quin said. Ben couldn’t tell if he was making fun of him or not, but with Quin he felt it was generally safe to assume that to be the case. And indeed, when he looked over at him, his friend had a self-satisfied smile that rarely meant anything good. Ben just rolled his eyes at him and took a bite of his own beigeish mush.

 

It wasn’t until long after he’d returned to his cell that he realized the incessant buzzing from the Force had finally quieted. Ben wasn’t sure when exactly it’d stopped, but he had a growing hunch that it was the exact moment their eyes locked from across the room. What that could possibly mean, Ben didn't yet venture to guess. 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Anakin could admit that being stuck in a prison with hundreds of the galaxy’s most dangerous criminals was more than a little terrifying. So far though, it’d mostly been…dull. His cell had remained empty, for which he felt he should be grateful. But with no one to talk to and nothing to do but stare at the bunk above his, time passed very slowly.

His mind kept wandering back to the man he’d caught staring at him in the cafeteria. He was undoubtedly handsome but it was more than that. Anakin supposed he should have felt threatened by the intense look the man had leveled him with, but he didn’t feel any hostility off of him. And besides, something about him seemed terribly familiar. Underneath the overgrown beard and wild red-gold hair, there was a spark of…something. Anakin wondered if perhaps he’d met him at some point. It was possible; he’d met hundreds of beings in his years as a smuggler. Something about his mannerisms or—well Anakin wasn’t sure exactly. He hadn’t even realized he was staring until the man’s sharp gaze found his across the room. That niggling sense of familiarity rose to a crescendo then. The moment felt surreal somehow; it stretched on for far longer than a passing glace but was still over before he'd had time to process it. He might’ve thought he’d imagined the whole thing if the echoes of recognition weren’t still reverberating in his mind.

It wasn’t until right before Anakin finally slipped off into an uneasy sleep that he realized where he recognized the man from. The holonet, during the war. That had to be it. He was some Jedi general; they’d called him the Negotiator. Anakin hadn’t realized any of them survived after the Emperor seized power; made sense they’d want to keep a few of them locked up he supposed. Well, it was comforting in a way, knowing that not  _everyone_  in here was a hardened criminal. 

What was his name?

His mind turned it over for hours before finally supplying him with an answer. Right, of course—

_Obi-Wan Kenobi_

 

 

Ben spent the majority of his recreation time reading, or talking to Quin. He’d purchased a cheap datapad from the commissary during his first few months in captivity. They weren’t connected to the holonet of course, but in truth he wasn’t sure he had any real desire to keep up with the goings on nowadays anyway, being as powerless as he was to do anything about it. 

“Heads up, your boy’s coming over here,” Quinlan said, elbowing him in the ribs.

Ben looked around the yard, confused for a moment. Then, because he could hardly miss him, he caught sight of the man from the day before. Just as bright as Ben remembered, if a bit more haggard. To be expected after spending his first night in prison. Ben wondered what the younger man could want from him; usually this early in their sentence, people tended to keep to themselves. Was it possible that he’d felt the strange warning from the Force as well? 

“Hey, sorry to uh, bother you. I just thought I recognized you from the holonet, from…before.” The man’s eyes darted around uncomfortably.

Ben blinked in surprise. It’d been quite a long time since anyone had recognized him. And in this place, that was a blessing.

“Looks like you got a fan,” Quin smirked, clearly amused.

“You’re him right? Obi-Wan Ke—”

“No.” Ben stopped him before he could finish, a hand up to silence him.

“Oh. I’m sorry I just thought—”

“It’s fine; you were mistaken,” Ben cut him off again, voice stern if not unkind. “A bit of advice you’d do well to remember though— no one is anyone here.”

The young man stared at him for half a moment, glancing back and forth between him and Quinlan. Quin, of course, just shrugged unhelpfully at him.

“Alright uh…thanks.” He frowned a bit dejectedly before slinking off the way he’d come. 

“What’d you do that for?” Quin asked once he’d gone.  

“ _Don’t_ ,” Ben said shortly, leaving no room for argument. 

“Tch and people call  _me_ dramatic,” he rolled his eyes, returning his attention to his own datapad. Ben opened his mouth to protest before changing his mind; any argument he came up with would just be fuel to Quin’s fire at this point. 

Anyway, he wasn’t being  _dramatic,_  he just didn’t need any unnecessary reminders of the past. And whatever that young man had been looking for, he wasn’t going to find it here. 

 

 

Well, if Anakin had hoped he’d find some kind of ally, or Maker  _forbid_ , companionship in the onetime Jedi, he was clearly mistaken. The man was obviously Obi-Wan Kenobi; Anakin didn’t know why he bothered denying it. Even if the Knight had been a half-decent liar—which he wasn’t— Anakin still would’ve been able to tell. He always seemed to just know things like that, even with the strange numbing atmosphere of this place. 

Maybe if he’d been paying more attention, if he hadn’t been otherwise occupied with thoughts of the mysterious not-Jedi, he would’ve noticed the Trandoshan he was walking straight toward. As it was, Anakin’s eyes were downcast, and his mind a parsec or two away when he slammed, shoulder on shoulder, straight into what must have been a six and a half foot wall of scaly muscle. He bounced off and might’ve hit the ground if not for the two clawed hands that wrapped around his upper arms in a biting grip. His back was crushed against the chest of another giant, whose species he couldn’t make out from his position. Anakin tried unsuccessfully to wriggle out of the man’s grasp, instead finding himself looking up into the unforgiving reptilian eyes of the Trandoshan he’d run into.

“Might wanna look where you’re going,” the man hissed down at him, tongue flicking out as he spoke.

“Sorry—I’ll be more careful,” Anakin’s voice wavered, nearly breaking as he tried again to pull free, which only caused the claws at his arms to dig in deeper.

“Where ‘re you going? Hang out a minute,” the man at his back breathed into his ear.

“I’d really rather not,” Anakin grimaced, twisting his hips enough to drive his elbow into the man’s diaphragm. He coughed and released him instantly, doubling over. The move bought Anakin just enough time to bolt all of four inches before the Trandoshan was on him, durasteel-firm grip pulling his wrist so hard he felt his shoulder scream. Anakin managed to regain his footing before hitting the ground but it hardly mattered as, in that moment, a giant fist hit him across the jaw. Whatever it was that Trandoshans bones were made of, it seemed to be something stronger than humans’ because Anakin felt as if he’d been hit with a brick. He fell back, slamming ass-first into the ground, white hot pain erupting from his tailbone. The blow didn’t knock him out but he almost wished it had’ve, as the other man had recovered from the single strike Anakin had landed, and he delivered a sharp kick to Anakin’s ribs. Anakin curled up tight, trying to protect whatever he could and prayed for a guard as the two doubled down on their assault.

Painful as it was, the attack didn’t last more than another few seconds before a _crack_ sounded  and suddenly the hits stopped coming. There were more noises, the sound of bone against bone, and a grunted curse but it was another moment before Anakin ventured to open his eyes, still frozen in fear as he was. He expected a guard, maybe two—but when his vision stopped swimming long enough for him to make out the scene before him it was the man with the coppery hair standing over him. He was breathing heavily but beyond the red welt across his cheek that would undoubtedly purple into a sizable bruise, looked hardly worse for the wear.

He crouched down, holding a hand out as if to touch Anakin’s face but then retracting it before it could make contact. “Are you alright?” He asked instead, eyes grazing over Anakin’s crumpled form worriedly.

“Th-thought you weren’t a hero anymore?” Anakin coughed, grimacing at the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. 

“You and Quin are going to get along wonderfully,” the man who was clearly Obi-Wan Kenobi grumbled. Distantly, Anakin wondered if he was talking about the friend he’d been sitting with in the yard, but mostly he just focused on not losing consciousness.

 “Don’t move, he’s getting a guard.” Anakin nodded, trying to blink the spots out of his vision.

“M’kay,” he slurred, eyelids feeling suddenly heavy. He thought Obi-Wan might’ve said something else but his voice sounded garbled and far away.

 

 

Anakin closed his eyes once and thought he must have kept them shut for longer than he meant to because when he opened them again he was alone. He thought for a moment that Obi-Wan had just left him bloodied and bruised, until he heard the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Ah, infirmary then. He tried to lift his head but only got a splitting ache between his eyes for his trouble. After that he decided to lie very still until someone forced him to move.

The next time Anakin opened his eyes it was to two gloved hands prodding at his midsection. They weren’t exactly gentle, but not overly rough either and all things considered, he figured he couldn’t ask for much more.

 “Skywalker?” The figure looming over him asked, voice gruff in a way that made it clear he wasn’t really asking. Anakin groaned out something unintelligible, shutting his eyes again to block out the bright overhead lighting.

 “You’re gonna be fine,” the man Anakin assumed was one of the prison doctors continued on. “Keeping you here for another few days to make sure there isn’t any internal bleeding, then you’re back to gen pop. I’d suggest avoiding any more fights; your stay here ain’t that long.” 

Anakin cracked an eye open to try and get a look at the doctor’s face, but by the time he managed it he was alone again. 

 

All in all, Anakin supposed he should’ve felt grateful for the fact that there were no complications in his recovery, nothing to stop him from returning to his dim little cell just under a standard week later. But he was honestly too terrified to feel anything beyond mounting horror as the guards escorted him out of the medical ward. Obi-Wan, or whatever he was calling himself, and his friend may have been helpful in a pinch but he could hardly rely on them to have his back now that he was found to be alive and well. And he had a sinking feeling that his attackers wouldn’t be quite so pleased about his speedy recovery.

As soon as the door shut behind him, he realized he was no longer the cell’s only occupant. Though empty at the moment, the bottom bunk had been undoubtedly disturbed and the place just had the shadow of a presence left behind. Not for the first time, Anakin cursed the strange numbing atmosphere the prison seemed to give off. In most other circumstances he might be able to discern  _some_  amount of information through feel alone; as it was he was all but flying blind.

 

Since it seemed his new cell mate had claimed the bottom bed, Anakin climbed into the empty top bunk. He lay back slowly, so as not to aggravate his still-bruised ribs, and waited for whoever to return. In reality he didn’t have to wait for long; the guards had brought him back almost halfway through this ward’s rec hour. Nervous as he was though, every minute stretched on as he chewed his nails in silence. Finally he just closed his eyes, hoping that if he managed to fall asleep he might postpone the meeting a little while longer. 

The alarm signaling the end of rec hour sounded throughout his ward and Anakin kept his eyes stubbornly screwed shut. He heard feet thundering down the hall in a steady drumbeat as his fellow inmates were led down the hall in semi-orderly lines. The grating sound of metal on metal as the door to the cell slid open was almost drowned out by the pounding of his heart. Still he remained motionless, resisting his hindbrain urge to try and run.

Light footsteps passed across the tiny room and then, “Hello?” A soft Coruscanti accent in a voice that was quickly becoming familiar.

“Obi-Wan!?” He asked, eyes flying open in surprise— and relief.

“Not Obi-Wan: Ben. My name is Ben.” 

“Okay, Ben,” Anakin tested the name out. It didn’t suit him, he thought, but if that was what he insisted on calling himself. He sat up gingerly, offering a hand. “I’m Anakin.”

From his expression, Anakin got the distinct impression Ben had already known that, but he shook his hand nonetheless.

“So, what are you doing here?” Anakin asked as Ben rather hastily retracted his hand.

“Making sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

“Hey, it’s not like I went  _looking_  for a fight. It just…found me.”

“Yes well, I’m here to see that it doesn’t find you again—not for a while anyway,” he smirked and Anakin wasn’t sure if he was being sincere.

“How’d you even manage this? I didn’t think we exactly got to pick our rooms.”

“I’ve been here awhile, racked up a few dozen favors,” he shrugged and Anakin was sure there was more to the story but Ben didn’t seem inclined to elaborate. 

“Alright, well, why then? Is there something you…want something from me?” Anakin asked nervously, pushing himself further back on the bunk in an effort to feel slightly less vulnerable. It wasn’t that he didn’t  _expect_ this sort of thing at some point; he’d spent the majority of his life around pirates and smugglers. He’d heard stories. He just hoped a former Jedi might be a bit more…chivalrous.

“Want…?” Ben blanched, eyes going wide. The idea had  _clearly_ not occurred to him. Somehow, for a moment, this made Anakin feel impossibly worse. “No, no I don’t— you can owe me a favor. Not  _that_  kind of favor,” he amended immediately, the color rushing back into his face.

When Anakin was first marched through the doors of the complex, he thought he didn’t belong here. But, wow, Ben  _really_  didn’t belong here.

“I knew you were a Jedi,” Anakin smiled smugly, resettling himself on the little mattress. He didn’t bother looking up but he could practically see Ben rolling his eyes as he scoffed at him. 

This was a definite step up, Anakin thought, from spending the next three years alone— or with anyone else in this pit.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

As much as he generally resented having to rely on other beings, Anakin had to admit he felt a lot safer sitting next to two former Jedi the next morning at breakfast than he had alone. Ben’s friend Quinlan was…interesting to say the least. Anakin didn’t recognize him from the holonet the way he did Ben; between his striking features and the stark yellow stripe running across his face, Anakin was sure he would’ve remembered if he had. Anakin didn’t know much of well…anything about the Jedi, but Quin didn’t strike him as very Jedi-like, not nearly ascetic enough. Though, as the man had had almost as big a hand in saving his life as Ben had, Anakin supposed a few quirks could be overlooked. Besides, he _was_ actually pretty funny.

“So wait, if you guys are Jedi, why don’t you just use your magic or whatever to break out of here?”

“Your boy’s pretty but there isn’t a lot going on upstairs is there?” Quin said to Ben, clearly loud enough for Anakin to hear.

“Hey, kriff you man. It’s not like any of you guys ever bothered visiting Tatooine.” Quinlan did look just a bit guilty then, but only just.

“Don’t mind him Anakin, it’s just…didn’t you ever realize?” Ben gave him a strange imploring look that he wasn’t sure how to interpret.

“Realize what?” He asked, starting to get frustrated; were all Jedi this obnoxiously cryptic he wondered.

“Realize you’re Force-sensitive,” Quin rolled his eyes. 

“I’m no wizard,” Anakin scoffed. “I’m just a pilot— the best pilot in the galaxy, yes, but still.”

Quin gave Ben a look of incredulity, biting back about ten sarcastic remarks. Patience, he reminded himself internally; he didn’t know how, but Ben seemed to think this kid was important.

“Anakin,” Ben said, in that perfectly calm way of his. “Haven’t you ever noticed…strange things happening around you?”

“Like…?” He looked at them blankly.

“Knowing what people are going to say before they say them, things moving without you having to touch them, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, well, I mean I guess a few weird things have happened to me here and there. But that doesn’t mean I’m like you; I think I’d know if I could walk through walls or dodge blasters or whatever it is that you guys do.”

“We can’t actually…” Ben pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before continuing. “Never mind. You’ve just never been trained. Trust me Anakin, I’ve never seen anyone as bright in the Force as you are. And that’s with the Force dampeners in this place.”

He  _sounded_  sincere enough and Anakin could always tell when someone was lying— a skill that came in handy when the majority of your job was dealing with criminals. Then what Ben had actually said finally clicked. “Force dampeners?”

“It’s why we don’t just use our magic wizard powers to bust out of here,” Quin said, smiling teasingly but not cruel.

“They’re built into the compound; they disrupt our connection to the Force,” Ben explained.

“Is  _that_  why everything feels so distant and muted?”

“Yes that’s it exactly,” Ben nodded encouragingly.

“So you’re telling me…I have Jedi powers?” He asked, voice flat in disbelief.

“That’s not what we _call_  it but in a sense, yes. If you’d been discovered as a child you might’ve been able to join the Order.”

Anakin didn’t say anything for a moment, just blinked blankly at the two of them.

“Didn’t you ever wonder  _why_  you seem to know what people are thinking or how you can make things move without touching them?” Quin asked incredulously.

“I dunno, I’m a smuggler; seen stranger things,” he shrugged like that explained anything.

“Unbelievable,” Quin shook his head. Ben shot a glare in his direction before smiling patiently at Anakin.

“Regardless, you’re actually quite powerful in the Force Anakin. Stronger than any being we’ve encountered in quite a long time.” Even that was downplaying just how strong the young man might prove to be, Ben thought. But, intuition aside, he couldn’t be sure whether Anakin could be trusted just yet.

“How can you tell?” Anakin asked, leaning forward in interest.

“I can sense the strength of your Force signature, even through the dampeners. Most beings feel nearly null in here, but not you,” Ben said, trying not to sound  _too_  eager.

“Force signature— is that like the aura some life forms put off?”

“Beings with Force sensitivity, yes,” he nodded encouragingly.

“So, not everyone can see that? Wow," he shook his head in disbelief. "I feel like you’re telling me about a whole new world that’s been right in front of me.” Anakin suddenly felt as if he were the ignorant newly-freed slave he’d once been. “So, how  _did_  you guys end up here anyway, if you had access to the Force before they got you in here?”

“Well,” Ben and Quinlan let out a long sigh, almost in unison. “During the war we commanded an army of clones. No one was entirely sure who had ordered their manufacturing—”

“In hindsight that probably when we should’ve noticed that something was off,” Quin laughed humorlessly.

“Yes well, that would’ve been preferable,” Ben said in a resigned way that made Anakin suspect this wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. “In the last days of the war our clones turned on us for no discernible reason. Quin and I were…lucky to survive.” The two Jedi shared a glance that suggested otherwise but Anakin didn’t comment.

“The few of us that managed to survive the initial attack were mostly captured or killed, not really sure why they decided to keep the two of us alive but here we are,” Quin shrugged. 

“Are…are there any other survivors— any more Jedi?”

“No way of knowing,” Quin frowned, eyes downcast. “Cut off from the Force we can’t feel anything outside of these walls, much less spread across the galaxy. And the Empire isn’t exactly letting us send messages to each other.”

“I know my Padawan was alive when I was arrested. I would’ve felt it if she’d died. But that was, well. A long time ago now.“ Ben said, sounding so terribly hopeless Anakin felt an unexpected wave of guilt at not doing more with his freedom while he had it.

“Padawan, that’s your student right?” 

“My apprentice, yes,” Ben smiled sadly. “I only wish I’d had more time to train her before…everything.”

“You know if anyone could survive she could,” Quin said, putting a hand on Ben’s shoulder. Anakin sensed there was something they weren’t saying but didn’t feel he knew them well enough to press the issue, so instead just gave them a moment to mourn.

“Well, assuming she is alive, and we ever manage to gain back our freedom, there’s a good chance she’s been captured and held in a female prison,” Ben said after taking a long moment to compose himself.

“If she is, we’ll find her,” Quin said, his dark eyes hardened. Ben nodded and Anakin didn’t know him very well, but he could tell he was gathering up his strength to offer his friend another smile.

Anakin opened his mouth to speak—what he was going to say, he had no idea. He wanted to offer to help, but what could he do that a pair of Jedi Knights couldn’t? The decision was made for him when the alarm buzzed signaling the end of breakfast. He looked down at his mostly-uneaten tray of slop a little mournfully. It was tasteless and nearly inedible but it was better than nothing and he’d been so distracted by the conversation he’d hardly eaten anything. Too late to do anything about it now though; the guards were moving up and down the lines of tables, ushering anyone still sitting up into an orderly line and out of the cafeteria.

 

 

In the years before the Empire, a lot of people had regarded Obi-Wan Kenobi to be emblematic of everything a Jedi Master should be. Ben was distantly aware of this fact; whether it was true or if Obi-Wan had simply done a much better job fooling everyone else than he had himself, Ben wasn’t sure. Jedi were strong, yet kind and selfless. A Jedi wouldn’t hesitate to help someone in need with no thought as to what it might gain—or cost—them. But Ben was no Jedi, and there was very little room for charity in prison.

No, Anakin hadn’t been entirely off-base in his assumption that Ben wanted something in return for his protection. _What_ he wanted, however, was a different story.

 

It was another few days before Ben could speak to Quinlan alone, what with Anakin following him around like a newly-appointed Padawan.

Inmates were assigned different jobs, some depending on skill, others it seemed were doled out randomly. Most of the tasks were menial and better suited to droids. But, beyond the handful of repurposed battle droids that monitored the premises, there were rather few droids in or around the complex. Ben wasn’t sure whether the Empire was unwilling to spend the credits on what largely amounted to luxuries for their prisoners or if forcing them to complete rote mind-numbing tasks was an active part of their punishment. He tended to assume it was a bit of both.

Either way he’d grown to find that just having a routine, even if it did include cleaning a few dozen freshers, to be helpful in maintaining his sanity. Now though, the practice was coming in handy in an entirely new way.

It’d taken a few days longer than usual for Anakin to be assigned a task what with ending up in the infirmary a day into his sentence. But it seemed he had some skill as a mechanic and they’d decided to put his talents to use for the Empire. This gave Ben the perfect opportunity to talk to Quin without Anakin overhearing.

“Why is it that Skywalker gets the best job in this place after being here for a week, and we have to do this?” Quin bemoaned, gesturing a gloved hand at the sickly-lit fresher around them.

“You know they’d never trust Jedi with tools Quin—much less anything that might actually be important to their ridiculous cause. Either way, it finally gives us the chance to discuss Anakin.”

“Kenobi, you want to gossip?” Quin put a hand to his chest, gasping in mock surprise. 

Ben didn’t react other than to roll his eyes. “I think he could be our way out of here,” he said just loud enough to be heard. The fresher was empty but he never knew where they might’ve hid listening devices.

“I knew you had something planned,” Quin’s face broke into a conspiratorial grin. “So how do you figure he could do that?” 

“Well, I don’t know yet exactly. But if he can access the Force, even slightly, I feel we could use that to our advantage.” 

“And is he on board with this?” 

“Not…yet,” Ben said a bit sheepishly.  

“So what’s your plan, seduce him?” 

“Oh yes Quin you know I am quite the skilled and experienced seductress.”

“Hey it makes sense to me— you did already move in with him after all,” he snickered.

“Tch.” Ben didn’t honestly know what else he could’ve expected from Quinlan. “To keep him from getting himself killed.”

Quin gave him a look that conveyed  _Sure, Kenobi_  as well as any words could have. Ben sighed, forging on regardless. “Anyway the first thing we need to do is figure out if he has any experience in communing with the Force.” 

“Doubt it. No offense but he seemed pretty clueless.” 

“Yes well, he just needs a bit of training,” Ben replied immediately, feeling strangely defensive. 

“Finally taking on a new Padawan?”

“Hardly. But I’ll…keep you updated.” 

Quin shrugged, obviously not entirely convinced. 

 

 

As it turned out, it didn't take much effort at all to ignite Anakin's interest in learning more about the Force. Ben hadn't known Anakin very long, but somehow this didn't surprise him.

“Do you really think I could’ve been a Jedi? If someone had found me earlier?” Anakin asked the next evening when they were lying in their bunks trying to sleep.

“Undoubtedly yes," Ben answered almost too quickly. "You’re, well,  _quite_  strong with the Force.” Anakin got the feeling again that there was something Ben wasn’t telling him, but didn’t feel that he was being dishonest exactly.

“Wizard, I mean I like what I’ve done with my life—up to getting thrown in here that is—and I worked hard for it. But it would’ve been pretty cool to be able to do the things you guys can. And help people and stuff,” he trailed off, feeling guilty again. There was nothing stopping him from helping people before; he needn’t have been a Jedi to do good, after all. It was a little late for all that though.

Anakin looked up at Ben when the other man didn’t reply for a long moment. He was biting his lip, looking a bit hesitant and Anakin was about to ask him what the matter was when he finally spoke.

“I could teach you a thing or two, if you want. You won’t be a Jedi of course but then again there aren’t any Jedi anymore, really.” He seemed to drift for a moment, eyes down, before continuing. “Anyway, I’m sure you’d pick up on it quickly, being as gifted as you are.”

Anakin was still a bit skeptical as to how “gifted” he could be in some mystical Jedi magic he knew nothing about, but figured Ben must know better than he did on the subject. And, really, what else was he going to spend his time doing locked up for the next three years.

“Alright, yeah, I think I’d like that,” he smiled, feeling, for the first time since his arrest, a spark of excitement.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

“I thought you were gonna teach me how to move things with my mind and do backflips and stuff, not whatever…this is.”

Anakin cringed as Ben let out a long-suffering sigh. Maybe it was better that he hadn’t been found by the Jedi after all; he didn’t think he’d have made a very good Padawan.

“I’m sorry Ben, I just…don’t get what I’m supposed to be getting out of this.”

“It’s alright Anakin. I forget that not everyone grew up in the Temple,” Ben said, sounding lightly apologetic. “Meditation can be quite challenging for those who didn’t practice it from a young age.”

Anakin was pretty sure he was just saying that to make him feel better about struggling with such a simple task, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

“Meditation helps you find your center so your connection with the Force isn’t clouded, which is especially important in here where it’s so impaired by the dampeners.” He explained patiently. “Maybe Quin would’ve been a better teacher in this matter; meditation never came very easily to him either.”

“No, no you’re great— you know I’ve just never been very good at sitting still. Lemme just,” he took a deep, calming breath and let it out. “Try again.”

“Relax Anakin,” Ben smiled maybe just a little bit indulgently. “There’s no pressure, just breathe, let everything go.”

“Everything?” That seemed easier said than done.

“Everything,” he nodded encouragingly. “Don’t worry, it’ll all be there when you get back.”

“Right, right,” Anakin laughed, feeling a bit ridiculous.

“Here, just close your eyes and listen to my voice, okay?”

“Okay,” he closed his eyes, trying to be as patient with this exercise as Ben was being with him.

“Good, just breathe. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Now let go of any tension you’re holding.” He spoke slow and clear, his Coruscanti accent and rich voice almost shockingly soothing.

“Whatever you find the most calming, picture it, focus on it, and allow any other thoughts that come into your mind to just wash over you. Don’t fight them, just let them go.”

A vision of the inside of a ship, his ship, as he traveled through hyperspace, surrounded by nothing but stars floated into his mind. His breathing slowed, in through his nose out through his mouth and eventually everything— the noises of the other inmates, the cold ground underneath him, and even Ben— faded away. In the back of his mind was the slight hum of life and he instinctively held on to it until even the thought of flying was gone.

 

When Anakin opened his eyes again Ben was smiling at him in a way that made warmth blossom out from his chest. “Very good.” 

“Thank you,” Anakin mumbled, cheeks suddenly warm at the praise. “So that was meditation?”

“Well, guided meditation anyway, the first step in training at the Temple.”

Anakin felt a little humbled at more or less being compared to a youngling. But Ben looked pleased, so he couldn’t be too bothered by it. Instead he found himself returning his new teacher’s soft smile. “I guess it wasn’t so bad.”

“I’m glad you feel that way; it will make up the core of our lessons until you feel confident you can reach a meditative state on your own.”

“Aw  _c’mon_  Ben,” Anakin whined, leaning back against the frame of their bunk with a dramatic groan. Yes, he decided then—he would’ve made a  _terrible_  Jedi.

 

 

Ben had thought he’d gotten used to having no privacy, no time alone. And as much as he’d sorely missed it, he adapted, found solace where he could. But this was another level that not even he’d grown accustomed to. Over the years they’d been imprisoned, he and Quinlan had grown closer, both emotionally and physically as they’d been basically crammed in the same place. But that had been mostly out of necessity; Quin was his oldest friend now, but they both understood that personal space and boundaries becoming a thing of the past was beyond either of their control. Quin didn’t  _revel_  in their forced closeness any more than Ben did. Anakin however, seemed to derive a strange sense of joy in adhering himself to Ben’s side.

He found that it surprisingly didn’t take much for the younger man to slip rather seamlessly into his routine. They woke up at the same time, spent most of their days together, generally parting ways only for work. Ben really wasn’t sure what to make of his newly-acquired shadow that was Anakin Skywalker. The near-constant presence of his softly glowing Force signature was unexpectedly comforting after so long enduring the dull isolation the dampeners had inflicted on him.

He reflected on all of this silently one morning before even Anakin had woken. That each day differed very little from the last was one of the reasons so many beings found prison unbearable. Still though, it was almost disorienting how comfortably Anakin had fit himself into Ben’s little life. As ever he didn’t have long to ruminate on his thoughts before he felt the warm pulse of Anakin’s Force presence brush against his as he approached consciousness. A little rustling, a squeak from the thin mattress’ springs and then, 

“Morning Ben,” he said around a yawn, smiling at him as he jumped down from the top bunk.

Admitting it out loud would run the risk of having to endure endless teasing and I-told-you-so’s from Quin, but it was rather like having a new Padawan. Embarrassing as it was, more than once Ben had to restrain himself from replying with a stern, ‘That’s  _Master_  to you, Padawan.’ But that wasn’t right, was it? He wasn’t Anakin’s Master.

Instead he just smiled back, “Morning Anakin,” hoping the younger man hadn’t noticed the pause that came when Ben had to stop and remind himself of the strange situation he’d found himself in. If he did, he never let on, simply stretching and moving into position for their usual routine. Every morning they rose before the rest of their ward and sat on the duracrete floor, cross legged, backs straight, facing one another. Day after day, Ben talked Anakin through guided meditation, then deep breathing techniques, until he was finally able to reach a semi-meditative state on his own. Privately, he hoped Anakin was getting more out of the practice than he was, because with his currently-dulled sense of the Force, its use seemed limited. It did make him feel closer to the Jedi he’d once been—he wasn’t sure, however, whether this was a good thing or not, given the circumstances.

He could admit, at least to himself, in recent months he’d grown slack in his own meditation routine. With the Force so distant, and the days bleeding into one another with no sign of change on the horizon, it took a great deal of willpower to convince himself to continue the practice. If nothing else, having Anakin around to set an example for had proved useful in that way.

After the slightly rough start, the onetime-criminal became an exceptionally dutiful student. He never complained about the lack of excitement in their training, though it was clear that the practice of meditation had yet to grow on him. Instead, every morning and every evening he’d take his place on the floor, looking up at Ben with wide eyes, waiting for some word of instruction or approval. 

And so, with only the slightest amount of trepidation, he’d finally given it. “Very good Anakin.”

“Really?” He asked a bit skeptically. “I feel like I’m not getting anywhere with this,” he bit his lip, looking at Ben beseechingly, clearly wanting _more_.

“You’re advancing very quickly Anakin, especially for someone who didn’t grow up in the Temple,” Ben assured him so quickly it almost surprised himself. He had certainly never been this generous about praising his own Padawan, not wanting her to come to rely on it. As a Jedi she needed to be stronger than that. But it didn’t matter if Ben spoiled Anakin with approval; the younger man wasn’t a Jedi, would never be. Strangely, the thought filled him with an aching melancholy. He shook it off as quickly as it came; it was the sort of pointless longing he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on.

Oblivious to Ben’s inner turmoil, Anakin just beamed back at him. “If you say so,” he said, not even trying to hide how much he was soaking up the praise.

 

 

Anakin, Ben, and Quinlan were seated in their usual place near the corner of the cafeteria for their midday meal. It was easy to lose track of time inside the complex, but if Anakin were to guess he’d say it had been just over a standard month since he’d first arrived.  

“So, how goes the training?” Quin asked over the surrounding chatter of the cafeteria. “Learn anything useful yet?” His eyes darted back and forth between Ben and Anakin as he spoke and Anakin got the distinct feeling, as he usually did where the two of them were concerned, that there was something he was missing. Spending time with them made Anakin itch with curiosity; there was so much about their former lives he wanted to ask. But he still wasn’t sure whether it was his place to pry.

“Still just working on meditation, mostly,” Anakin answered a little sheepishly.

“Really? The way he talks about it, I figured you’d be moving mountains with your mind any day now. Don’t you think it’s time you moved him on to the next lesson?” He asked, turning to look at Ben expectantly.

“Well I—”

“It’s not his fault; I’m just a slow learner,” Anakin cut in, feeling weirdly defensive. Earliest impressions aside, he’d grown rather fond of Ben—even if he was a bit stuffy. As much as he’d grown to appreciate Quin, he couldn’t imagine the boisterous man affording him the same gentle patience Ben managed when he tripped up or got frustrated time and time again.

“Alright, alright,” Quin put his hands up in mock-surrender. “I’m just saying, there is more to the Force than deep breathing.” His gaze, trained on Ben, seemed unusually pointed to Anakin. He opened his mouth to ask something— what, he wasn’t sure but then,

“No, he’s right. You’ve improved remarkably; it is about time to teach you something new,” Ben said before he could get a word out.

“Really? _Wizard_ ,” Anakin beamed. He didn’t know what exactly had just transpired between the two of them that’d caused Ben to change his mind but, caught up in the excitement of the moment as he was, it hardly seemed something he needed to concern himself with.

 

Not for the first time Ben felt a stab of guilt as Anakin’s face lit up at his agreeing to move him onto the next lesson. Part of him wanted to snap at Quin, tell him not to interfere with his teaching. But the better part of him knew it wasn’t Quin he was upset with. If this course of action made him sick to his stomach it was his own fault; it had been  _his_  plan after all. 

Before he could say anything else, the buzzer signaling the end of their mealtime sounded. As guards began filtering in to escort the prisoners out, Ben got an eerie prickling feeling in the back of his neck. It both was and wasn’t like the feeling he’d gotten the day Anakin arrived. He frowned in concentration, trying to hold onto the fleeting sensation. His eyes darted from Anakin to Quin and back but neither of them seemed to have noticed anything amiss.

 “C’mon Ben,” Anakin, who’d already risen from his seat, urged him. “Before the guards decide to give us a hard time.”

As if on cue, one of the identically-clad guards stepped up behind him. The man didn’t speak but the uncomfortable feeling spiked, turning Ben’s stomach. 

“Right, I’m going,” he said, standing a bit unsteadily.

“You alright?” Quin asked. 

“Fine, just…drifted for a moment,” Ben hoped he sounded surer than he felt. Judging from the looks on his friends’ faces, he doubted it. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, falling in line behind Anakin and Quin as they made their way out of the cafeteria. 

As they reached the point where Quin was to be led in a separate direction his dark eyes bored into Ben’s for a moment, questioning. Ben tried to send him a wave of reassurance, hoping he understood despite their lack of Force communication. Then they were forced apart, the same guard from before jabbing Ben in the back with a firm hand. Ben bit back an irate “ _I’m going_ ”—it wouldn’t do any good to upset the man, instead silently trailing behind Anakin toward their cell. The guard opened the door and they obediently shuffled in. Ben turned to look at the man one more time, trying to parse out what the Force could be trying to tell him. 

He’d expected to only see the back of the featureless white armor as the guard disappeared down the hall, but the man was still standing there. He was just as faceless as all of the other guards, and just as silent. His head tilted to the side almost imperceptibly, but just when Ben thought the man might actually speak, he turned and marched down the hall the way he’d come. 

As he retreated, so did the prickling feeling, as if neither of them had been there at all. The whole exchange couldn’t have lasted more than five seconds.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Anakin asked, calling his attention back to the present.

“Fine, I just…did that guard seem strange to you?” He paced across the cell, sitting down on the edge of his bunk. 

“I dunno, they all seem kind of creepy to me,” he shrugged, sitting cross legged on the floor. “So, when are we gonna start my next lesson?”

“So impatient,” Ben sighed; he really wasn’t sure that Anakin was ready to move on. But, not-so-subtle hinting aside, Quin was right, time was a luxury they’d wasted plenty of.

“Sorry,” he said, slightly admonished. “I’m just excited.”

“It’s alright,” Ben smiled at him. Patience was a lesson he’d do well to remember himself.

 

Hey Ben?” Anakin asked after a long moment.

“Mm?” 

“Since you’re teaching me all this Jedi stuff, shouldn’t I call you my Master?” Ben wasn’t sure how serious Anakin was being; he seemed genuine enough but that air of playfulness he rarely lost was still present.

“That…won’t be necessary,” he stumbled through the words, ignoring the strange skip his heart had given at hearing that word come out of Anakin’s mouth. Something about it had felt so  _right._  

Anakin gave him a searching look, as if he knew exactly what Ben had been thinking. But then finally replied with, “Alright then, Ben it is,” shrugging off the entire exchange.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't really been answering comments lately bc life (I'm publishing an actual book, what?!) but I love all of them v much.

 

 

The masters had often called Quinlan unconventional, rash, even disrespectful (imagine, the gall). Still though, reputation aside, he knew attachment when he saw it. And Obi-Wan (because he refused, at least in the privacy of his own mind, to call his oldest friend “Ben”) was attached. He wasn’t judging, or blaming. But he knew that look— had seen it in the mirror often enough. Anakin Skywalker had burrowed his way under Obi-Wan’s skin.

Powerful as Anakin might become, he was untrained and Obi-Wan could try to rectify that all he wanted but it still remained to be seen how possible that was when they had no sabres, no freedom, and almost no access to the Force. Quin didn’t want to doubt his friend—he’d learned a long time ago not to bet against Obi-Wan Kenobi—but he wasn’t convinced he hadn’t invented this whole thing as an excuse to spend time with the other man.

Force knew he was repressed enough to feel the need to bend over backwards to come up with a reason to build a connection with another being. As if the council was going to march through the durasteel doors any moment and chastise him for not adhering to the code.  _If only_ , Quin scoffed internally.

Still, he’d be a hypocrite if he didn’t admit that Skywalker did have a way of growing on those around him. Quin wasn’t remotely convinced that he was going to be their savior, especially not at the rate Obi-Wan insisted in training him, but he was  _fun_. And really, stuck in a place like this, what more could Quin ask for?

  

“Okay Anakin, focus on that,” Ben said, gesturing to a discarded lump of fabric sitting on the floor of their cell.

“Is that a sock?” Anakin asked flatly. “What, is laundry part of Jedi training?” 

Ben sighed; he swore he could feel a headache building behind his eyes already. “No Anakin. You’re going to move it with the Force.”

“The sock. You want me to move the  _sock_  with my mind.” He repeated, sounding no more enthused than before.

“You have to start somewhere and we don’t exactly have a lot of items that aren’t bolted to the ground,” Ben huffed.

“Okay, alright I’m sorry,” Anakin put his hands up in a show of surrender. “So how do I start?”

“Have you ever moved anything with the Force before?” He asked, taking a breath to regain his composure. 

“Not…deliberately. Usually just when I was really angry, or afraid.”

“Okay, good— that’s exactly where I _don’t_ want you to start. Fear, anger, those are the quickest paths to the Dark Side,” Ben said severely, trying to get across the seriousness of his point.

“The Dark Side? That’s a real thing? I always figured it was some poodoo pirates and smugglers made up.”

“Weren’t  _you_ a smuggler?”

“Yeah, and I made up a lot of poodoo,” he shrugged, clearly trying not to grin.

“Never mind,” Ben sighed again. “We’re getting off topic— the Dark Side is real, and extremely dangerous.”

“So how do I know I’m not using the Dark Side by accident?” Anakin asked, sounding rather like a nervous youngling. 

“You’d know. It feels different, all-consuming. Dark Siders think they’re using the Force; they don’t understand that it’s using them.” 

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” he noted, leaning forward in obvious interest. 

“Yes, well.” Ben cleared his throat, looking away for a short moment. “Keep your mind in the present. Focus on the sock.” 

Anakin, thankfully, seemed clever enough to leave well enough alone, turning his attention to the dirty little garment on the floor as instructed. He stared at it, frowned at it, looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel over it. But it remained motionless.

“You’re sure I have this Force of yours right?” 

“I’m sure,” he smiled. “Just, clear your mind like you did when you were meditating—but focus on the sock.”

Anakin didn’t look convinced but nodded anyway, taking a deep breath and trying again. It wasn’t another thirty seconds before the fabric shifted, moving an inch or two across the floor. Anakin gasped, looking at Ben with wide-eyed amazement. 

“Very good, keep going,” he said calmly, encouragingly. In all actuality, Ben felt just as excited as Anakin looked. Until that very moment, he hadn't been sure if it was possible to tap into the Force to any sort of meaningful degree inside the walls of the prison. His student, it seemed, was proving to be even more promising than he had hoped.

With an enthusiastic nod, Anakin turned back to the task. It seemed his success had garnered him a bit of confidence; almost immediately the sock levitated off the duracrete floor. It held steady for a few seconds before Anakin’s excitement got the better of him and it wavered then fell. 

“That was amazing! When do we move on to bigger things?” Anakin asked, beaming.

“Patience, you have to master this first,” Ben chastised him, though it didn’t come out nearly as stern as he might have intended. Anakin rolled his eyes but was still grinning.

 

“So, have you made any progress with your newest Padawan?” Quinlan asked him a week or so later. His voice barely carried over his shoulder and out of the clogged sink he was hunched over. 

“His training is actually coming along surprisingly fast.” Ben didn’t bother protesting the title of ‘Padawan’— doing so would only encourage Quin’s teasing.

“So what’s the matter then?” He asked, having apparently picked up on  _something_  in Ben’s tone. They’d known each other far too long, he decided, sighing. 

If Ben had thought about it with any more than a cursory level of concern, he might’ve worried about what bringing in what was essentially a live-in student. He had always been a private man— and if anything, imprisonment and the rise of the Empire had only increased those tendencies.

With their shared history Quin and he made perfect cellmates. There were no uncomfortable questions to avoid, no one who might notice his previous identity. Anakin though, didn’t have such advantages. And given his naturally curious nature, Ben might’ve expected him to dig into some sensitive areas without even realizing it. 

“Well, you’ve probably realized how… inquisitive Anakin can be.”

“That’s one way to put it; the kid never  _stops_ asking questions. It’s nonstop: ‘Can you guys read minds?’ Or ‘What is a midichlorian anyway?’ Or ‘When do I get to learn how to do backflips?’” He mocked in a voice that honestly sounded nothing like Anakin’s.  

“Yes, yes but it’s always about the Force. More or less.” 

“So, what, you’re hurt he doesn’t want to know more about you?”

“No, that’s not it,” Ben insisted, though he could just sense the disbelieving look Quin would be shooting his way, if his face hadn’t been stuck in a sink. 

He might’ve thought Anakin had no interest in his history if he couldn’t feel the burning curiosity coming off of him. Sometimes, either he or Quin would make some offhand remark about some shared encounter or other, and Anakin would get this look in his eye like he couldn’t hold the questions back any longer. But he’d always bite his lip and allow the moment to pass unspoken. Ben knew he should feel grateful, relieved. And yet, the longer they spent together without sharing any more than the bare minimum of personal information, the more anxious he got. 

“It’s just that I keep  _expecting_  him to ask and then he…doesn’t!” 

“I dunno man, sounds like you’re a little insulted he hasn’t asked.” Even as strained as it was, his voice still held that irritating sing-song quality that always grated on Ben’s nerves. 

“I’m not—” 

“I get it,” Quin waved him off, finally standing to look at him. “It’s the waiting that’s bugging you.” 

“I…suppose so.”

“So why don’t you just start, ask him something about himself.”

“Well I don’t want to pry...” the objection sounded weak even to his own ears. 

“Ugh you’re both hopeless,” Quin rolled his eyes, turning back to the sink.

Ben wouldn’t admit it but maybe— for once— Quin had a point.

 

 

Anakin felt a little guilty for enjoying the work he’d been given as much as he did, especially considering his skills were being put to use aiding the Empire. But prison was, well, boring. Repetitive. And though the mechanical work they’d assigned him wasn’t exactly the most sophisticated thing he’d ever done, it was at least  _something_. Beyond Ben and his training, it was the one thing that kept him moderately sane.

The work he’d been given that day was particularly unchallenging though, giving his mind plenty of time to wander. He thought about his mother back in Tatooine, her husband, and their farm, hoped she wasn’t  _too_  worried about him. Inevitably though, as they always did, his thoughts found their way back to Ben. 

Like a lot of children, especially Outer Rim children, Anakin had often dreamed of being a Jedi when he was young. He’d imagined a hundred different scenarios— saving princesses, freeing enslaved worlds. What he hadn’t accounted for, however,  was just how _repressed_  the Jedi could be. The whole order couldn’t have been like that, Quinlan certainly wasn’t. But man if Ben didn’t have shields around him thicker than the durasteel doors keeping them in this pit. 

Anakin wondered if he would be as tightly-wound as Ben if he’d been an actual Jedi. Somehow he doubted it. At this rate he’d serve his whole sentence before he got anything personal out of the man. Though, he mused, it wasn’t really fair to complain. Incarceration aside, he had actually been exceptionally lucky getting free training from a Jedi. And a famous one at that. Ben had been nothing but patient and kind, he reminded himself. Even if he was a little uptight.

 

With busy hands and a wandering mind, the day seemed to slip by quicker than usual and it wasn’t long before Anakin was being escorted back to his cell by another one of the identically faceless guards. He found it particularly unnerving that he could never be sure if he was being dealt with by the same person any given day. There could’ve been twenty guards or two hundred and he would have no idea either way.

Still, there was something strangely human about them he thought. Yet another thing he was just itching to get Ben's take on, but wasn’t sure his questions would be welcome. Something about the way Ben held himself whenever they were in the immediate presence of any of the guards gave Anakin the impression the subject would be a touchy one. The former Jedi, it seemed, had quite a lot of those. 

 

By the time he made his way to their little room Ben was already inside. He was sitting on the bottom bunk with his back leaning against the wall. To anyone else it might’ve looked like he’d dozed off, but Anakin felt sure he was meditating. True to his private nature, it seemed that he didn’t like to do anything overtly Jedi-related when he knew he was being watched. Though, in reality, they were  _always_ being watched in this place.

The guard let Anakin in and closed the door behind him before disappearing down the hallway, silent as always. Anakin stood in the middle of the tiny cell, feeling just slightly awkward. He didn’t want to disturb Ben by climbing onto the top bunk but—

“Hello Anakin,” Ben said suddenly, cutting through Anakin’s anxiety like it was nothing. 

“Oh, hey Ben,” he replied, trying not to sound startled.

“How was your day?” 

“Y’know, same old stuff,” Anakin shrugged, internally marveling over how…commonplace this all had become in such a short period of time. 

Ben hummed in understanding before clearing his throat and shuffling over to one side of his bunk. “Why don’t you ah, sit for a while,” he invited, gesturing to the now-empty space next to him.

“Oh, yeah okay,” Anakin fumbled, finding himself surprised all over again. This was new; did Ben want to meditate on the bunk instead of the floor for once? It’d certainly be kinder on Anakin’s backside than the duracrete.

He sat next to Ben, leaving some distance between them so as not to crowd him. “So uh, what’s up?” He asked, aiming for casual. 

"I just thought it'd be nice to…get to know more about you, your life. Before prison I mean. If you don't mind," he said in a rush, looking a shade pinker than usual.

“Oh,” this surprised Anakin more than anything he’d said so far. “Why?” He asked, feeling stupid even as the word left his mouth. 

“Well, we haven’t really shared anything about ourselves. And we’ll probably continue to be in rather close quarters for the foreseeable future so…” he trailed off uncertainly, obviously feeling a bit awkward himself. 

“Okay, yeah sure,” Anakin smiled, feeling a sudden blossom of warmth unfurl in his chest. This was unexpected but certainly not unwelcome. “What did you wanna know?” 

“Oh, anything. You’ve mentioned you’re from Tatooine— do you still have family there?”

“Yeah, my mom. And a stepfather and stepbrother now too. I’m grateful for them, y’know stops my mom from being alone while I’m gone. Which is gonna be for a lot longer than I’d planned, I guess,” he let out a dry laugh.

“That sounds nice,” Ben said, sounding a bit distant. Were the Jedi his only family, Anakin wondered not for the first time. “What about your father?” Ben asked, cutting through his thoughts.

“Oh I didn’t, don’t have one.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, I mean I literally never had one. My mom just had me on her own. She always said it was some kind of miracle.” He always felt a little foolish telling this bit of his history to new people. They generally thought he was either joking or unimaginably naïve. Ben, however, didn’t laugh. Instead his eyes went wide and he ran a hand over his beard in a way Anakin had quickly learned to realize meant he was contemplating something he found particularly confounding. 

“Hey! Do you think that the Force could’ve caused it…somehow?” Anakin asked excitedly, the thought never having occurred to him before. 

“Well I suppose that  _might_ have something to do with it,” he said quietly. Anakin got the feeling once again that there was something Ben wasn’t telling him. He decided, yet again, to let it slide, instead taking the rare, clear opening to ask about Ben’s personal life.

“What about you? What do you miss most about being a Jedi. Besides, y’know, freedom.” 

“The closeness,” Ben answered without hesitation. “That is, attachment is— was forbidden. But a certain camaraderie existed in the Order that was hard to explain to outsiders. It’s not something easily obtainable now that they’re…gone.” 

“I bet,” Anakin replied softly, not knowing what else to say. “At least you’ve got Quin,” he added, hoping to lighten the mood. 

“That’s true,” Ben laughed. “Never tell him I said so, but I’m infinitely grateful he is in here with me. Not that I would wish this place on anyone, let alone a friend.” He clarified quickly. 

“But it’s nice not to be alone,” Anakin smiled back at him; that, at least, he could understand. 

“Exactly,” he nodded.

“What about your Padawan?” Anakin asked before he could stop himself. Ben cringed visibly and he wished he could take the words back— or at least that there was somewhere he could escape to beyond his own bed. 

“Sorry if it’s too—”

“No it’s fine,” Ben waved off his concern. “I just worry about her, you know, whether she’s safe…or even alive.”

“Tell me about her, what’s she like?” He asked with a hint of forced brightness. 

Ben stopped to think for a moment, a faraway look passing over his face before he spoke again. “She’s…willful. Stubborn. Maybe a bit too clever for her own good. And, even for a Jedi, one of the most good-hearted beings I’ve met. You’d like her.” His eyes snapped back to Anakin then. He smiled but that somehow just made him look all the more melancholy. 

“I'm sure I would,” Anakin smiled back at him tentatively. “Maybe I’ll get to meet her one day.”

“I hope so.” He sounded genuine in that and Anakin couldn’t be sure but he thought Ben’s smile looked a little less hopeless too. The thought warmed him more than it probably should have. 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

If Anakin were to stop and think about it, he’d probably say this was about the time the first big shift in his and Ben’s relationship happened. He wasn’t sure what triggered it exactly, but after that first evening they spent whispering details and stories until after lights out, things were different.

It was nothing dramatic, maybe not even anything anyone who didn’t spend nearly every waking hour in close quarters with the man would’ve noticed.  But Anakin definitely did.

Ben smiled easier, but seemed to frown more too. In any other context, Anakin might’ve thought that was a bad sign, or a case of mixed signals at the very least. Instead he took it for what it was; Ben letting down his shields. It wasn’t an opening of the floodgates by any means, more of a trickle really. One emotion, one detail at a time was all he’d ever let show.

Most of the things they told each other were innocuous, inconsequential, and Anakin still had no idea what Ben was thinking about the majority of the time. But he meticulously catalogued every interaction in his mind, which topics caused what reaction. He wasn’t sure why but even the smallest details about the man seemed vital somehow.  It became clear almost immediately that the list of things that gave Ben that faraway mournful look was a lot longer than the list of things that genuinely made him smile. From everything Anakin had learned about the former Jedi, he couldn’t say he blamed him.

 “Anakin, are you alright?” Ben asked suddenly, startling him out of his headspace. Their rec hour was nearly up he realized, wondering how ridiculous he must’ve looked, just sitting there staring.

“Oh, I uh yeah. Sorry,” Anakin blushed furiously. Quinlan and Ben were both giving him long curious looks. Well, Ben was. Quin’s was more of a smug smirk that Anakin was quickly coming to learn never meant anything good. 

“I was just…thinking about…what the next step of my training is gonna be.” Out of necessity Anakin had become a fantastic liar over the years. Usually. But this, he thought miserably, was far from his finest moment.

“Oh is  _that_  what you were thinking about?” Quin asked with mock sincerity so obvious it was just about impossible to ignore—but that wasn’t going to stop Anakin from trying.

“Yeah,” he tried again with more conviction. “The sock thing is getting a little old, don’t you think Ben?” That, at least, was true. Anakin no longer had any trouble holding the garment steady, and at their last session he’d added Ben’s datapad to the mix just to see if he could. 

“You have picked it up remarkably fast,” Anakin felt himself swell with pride at that. “I suppose we could start working on a few basic shielding techniques.” 

“Is that like making a force field with my mind?” He leaned forward excitedly. 

“No,” Ben glared at Quin who was doing an exceptionally poor job of stifling a laugh. “The shields are more…metaphorical. They protect your mind from outside meddling.” 

“Oh,” Anakin tried not to pout. “Well that’s good too I guess.” 

“It’ll be immeasurably important when you eventually come into contact with other Force users who aren’t hindered by dampeners,” Ben assured him. 

“Basic shielding is one of the first things they taught at the Temple,” Quin chimed in. 

“Alright I get it, I’m still a beginner,” Anakin acquiesced only a bit reluctantly. Privately he reassured himself with the thought that Ben  _had_ to get around to teaching him acrobatics and combat skills eventually. 

 

 

For a long time, he couldn’t remember much of anything. The void left behind by whatever used to take up all the space in his mind left nothing to focus on but his orders—understanding them, carrying them out. But that, he thought bitterly, was what he might’ve called a cop out, in a past life. A way to avoid coming back to the inevitable. As it was, he would’ve held on to just about anything that purported to give him any answers at all. 

First: there was a blindingly bright blue light, aching pain emanating from the back of his skull, everything was fuzzy, distant. He felt as if he was suspended in syrup, every movement slow and labored—even if it never appeared that way from the outside. There was no telling how much time had passed but he knew things were happening, changing.

In some ways it was almost as if things hadn’t changed at all; orders were given, orders were taken. But that’s how it felt: passive, as if there’d never been any other option. But that, too, was just another cop out. The only thing that didn’t leave him sick and confused was his own breathing, echoing and hot for an instant before it was filtered out into cool, fresh air. But always, always steady.

Then: an overwhelming sense of  _wrong_ , a sharp pain, and finally darkness. Nothing. Answers had always been handed out as readily as rations and he wasn’t trained for fear or uncertainty. Clarity and purpose were all he’d ever known, all he’d ever needed. But when they returned to him, well. He almost missed the darkness. Fear, he realized, tasted better than guilt.

 

 

Ben had very little doubt that Anakin would’ve been one of the finest students the Temple had ever produced had he been found earlier. If that weren’t the case, even the semblance of training him in their current conditions would be utterly impossible. As it was, the endeavor was proving to be one of the most challenging things he’d ever undertaken. 

Even more than meditation and simple Force manipulation, to say that teaching Anakin the basics of shielding with almost no connection to the Force was frustrating would be an understatement. Attempting to explain to Anakin how to build a metaphorical wall around his mind with no frame of reference was nearly impossible and it didn’t take much before the younger man was clearly growing impatient with himself. They’d hardly made any progress by the time their ward cycled into sleeping hours and the lights shut off. 

Anakin groaned in irritation, running his fingers through his hair and disheveling his already-messy curls further. 

“It’s alright,” Ben said, reaching out for Anakin’s shoulder in the near-dark. “You’ve only just started; no one picks these things up in one day.” 

“You’re right,” Anakin sighed, leaning heavily into the touch. “Thanks for being so patient with me.” He placed his hand over Ben’s and squeezed. His palm was almost too warm against the cool air of the cell. 

“Of—of course.” Ben swallowed heavily. “We should go to bed, before a guard comes by.” 

“Yeah, okay.” Anakin let his hand drop and rose from his position on the floor. Ben hesitated for a long moment, absentmindedly watching Anakin’s shadowy frame as he stretched his back out before climbing onto the top bunk. “You coming?” He whispered when Ben still hadn’t moved. 

“I was just…lost in thought for a moment,” Ben shook his head in an attempt to bring himself back to the present. He finally followed suit, sitting down on the edge of his bed. 

“You seem to do that a lot,” Anakin commented, face peeking over the edge of the mattress. Ben just hummed noncommittally, not sure how to respond. 

“It’s okay,” Anakin continued hurriedly. “I’m not asking— I mean you don’t have to tell me anything.” 

“I appreciate that,” Ben smiled a little ruefully in the darkness of the cell. He felt guilty for ever assuming Anakin would try to push his boundaries. “You’re curious though, aren’t you?” 

“Well…yeah,” Ben could almost hear the shrug in Anakin’s voice. 

“You can ask sometimes, if you want,” he said hesitantly, wondering already how long it’d be until he regretting that offer. 

“Yeah, okay.” Even in the dark Ben caught the flash of Anakin’s smile before his face disappeared as he rolled over onto his back. 

Another three, four days passed and Anakin’s progress was slow and halting. But, as Ben continued to remind him, there  _was_ progress. 

“When are you gonna teach me how to fight?” Anakin asked, trying not to sound too petulant. They'd been at it for hours and it was nearly time for their evening meal.  

“I do want to Anakin, but we’ll have to find a way to teach you that won’t attract any attention,” Ben sighed; this wasn’t the first time he’d explained this problem. And Anakin understood, he did, but what was the point of being trained by a Jedi if he wasn’t even going to learn any combat skills? 

“I’m honestly surprised no one has picked up on what we’re doing already. If I didn't know better I'd—” Ben started, but just then the alarm signaling the beginning of their midday meal sounded. The thundering footsteps of the guards coming to retrieve them echoed down the hallways of their ward and Anakin and Ben rose to meet them. 

Then there it was again, that tingling at the base of his neck. Ben’s knees buckled momentarily, but luckily it seemed his reflexes hadn’t left him for lack of use. The feeling was stronger than before, almost overwhelming.

“Woah, Ben are you okay?” Anakin asked, a steadying hand at his back.

“I’m fine,” he waved him off. “I just thought I…” Something about it was so achingly familiar. The footsteps grew louder, approached their cell.

Just as prisoners were transferred in and out seemingly at a whim, so were the guards. Although he didn’t have proof, Ben had long suspected that the guards were made up at least almost entirely of clones. He wondered if they hadn’t planned it that way on purpose, as a way to remind he and Quin of the loyalty they’d once thought they had from their clone troopers. Of the crucial mistake they’d obviously made.

For all of the Jedi council’s supposed wisdom, none of them had foreseen the clones’ betrayal and he still wasn’t sure what had happened himself—whether it’d been some form of mass mind control or if they’d always been with the Sith. Thinking back on the nearly-identical faces of his troopers, his commander, such a notion was hard to swallow. And yet, it was even harder to ignore the fact that the galaxy was currently operating under the first galactic Empire and Ben was expected to spend the rest of his life incarcerated. Something had clearly not gone as they’d planned.

Even those who were Force null had a certain aura about them, if not an actual signature, specific to each individual. Without the hindrance of the dampeners Ben had no trouble telling one apart from another, especially among those with whom he was well acquainted. With the dampeners it was often hit or miss. But as he looked at the armored guard, just as faceless as all the rest, he knew it was the same one from before. And something…something about him felt distinct. Almost like…

“Cody?”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an added note, like extra-double thanks for feedback & whatnot. Things back in the Real World are kinda uhh shit. So it's always much appreciated

 

The man—his face, his voice, he knew him. It was more of a barrage of feelings than anything else: a series of expressions, and loyalty, respect, fondness even. And guilt. Only one word stood among the dizzying swirl of memories. _General_.

It took him far too long to process what the man had said. _Cody_ , that was the first thing he’d heard when he woke up, too. It’s what his brothers told him he’d been called. Before. He was right then; he knew this man. Or at least, this man knew him.

Without thinking, he made a hand gesture he knew the man would understand. Cody wasn’t sure where he learned it himself but knew, somehow, what it meant. Not safe.

The man, his General, nodded almost imperceptibly. His expression was set, stoic, but there was an implicit trust in his eyes that was almost as familiar to Cody as the inside of his helmet. “What is it Ben? Do you know him?” The General’s younger companion asked, nervous eyes darting back and forth between the two. Ben? That didn’t sound right at all, Cody thought. But then again, what did he know?

“Not now Anakin, later,” the General whispered in a tone that left no room for argument. The younger man, Anakin, frowned and worked his jaw like he wanted to say more, but obeyed. Cody wasn’t sure how, but somehow he was sure his General always had that enigmatic something that convinced even the most reluctant to follow his commands.

Cody unlocked the cell and moved back to give the prisoners room to step through the door. He herded the two of them to the cafeteria in silence, his heart pounding in his ears. Anyone looking on wouldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary but Cody’s mind was racing. He hadn’t understood when they’d told him, but this was why they’d worked so hard to get him here. Find the General.

_Well I’ve found him_ , he thought, working to keep his steps steady and uniform, _so what now_?

 

 

 The very second he and Ben had taken their seats across from Quinlan, Anakin blurted out “So what was that about? Who was that?”

“Who was who?” Quin asked, leaning forward in interest.

Ben sighed heavily before answering, leaving Quin and Anakin hanging on his every breath. “Cody— he was the clone commander serving under me during the war.”

“The clone commander who tried to kill you?” Quin asked, voice uncharacteristically sharp. Anakin’s mouth hung open a bit, thoughts reeling. He wasn’t sure where to start.

“Indeed,” Ben nodded.

“He’s the one who—? Wait, the guards are clones?” Anakin asked, words tripping over themselves as he struggled to get all his questions answered.

“I’ve suspected it for some time, but it’s been impossible to confirm. They never take their helmets off around the prisoners. I’m sure of it now though; that was him.”

“I guess it makes sense why they’re so creepily similar now. I knew it wasn’t just the matching armor,” Anakin mumbled mostly to himself.

“So, what, did the Emperor send him here to come back and finish the job?” Quin asked.

“I don’t think so…” Ben stroked his beard. “He didn’t try to hurt me— or even say anything really. He just gave me the signal for danger, that it wasn’t safe.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Quin huffed, rolling his eyes.

“So what…what are you gonna do?”

“What _can_ I do?” He shrugged. “Just wait and see what happens.”

Anakin couldn’t quite tell if the look in Ben’s eyes was closer to anticipation or despair, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

 

 

Later that evening Anakin and Ben were sat on the duracrete floor of their cell facing one another, practicing a basic deep breathing exercise. Or, Anakin was anyway. Without the aid of the Force, Ben found it impossible to do anything other than ruminate.

What did Cody’s showing up after so long mean? Was he sent by the Rebellion? The Empire? Sending his onetime trusted commander to him while he was at his lowest in order to manipulate him, regain that trust, was exactly the sort of psychological warfare Sidious excelled at. And it would explain why they’d kept he and Quin alive all this time.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to practice his shielding,” Anakin’s voice startled him free of his train of thought.

“What?”

“I’m just saying, I don’t even need the Force to see your mind wandering from over here.”

“I’m sorry Anakin, I was just…thinking.”

“About that guard?” He asked. Ben hummed in assent, offering a half-hearted nod. “Who was he?”

“I told you, he—”

“No, I mean who was he to _you_?” Anakin asked. Ben had never noticed how piercing his blue eyes were until that moment; it might’ve felt like they were staring straight through him if his look weren’t so gentle.

“He was my commander…and my friend,” he replied, his voice coming out far weaker than he’d intended.

“You were close?” Anakin placed a hand on Ben’s knee, silently imploring him to continue.

“I suppose we were.” Ben swallowed, frowning at the sudden painful twinge in his chest. He thought he’d released all his feelings on the matter—or at least pushed them far enough away to render them irrelevant. “The war dragged on, the way all wars seem to. Knights and clones alike were becoming one with the Force all the time; we never knew who would still be with us from day to day. Cody was a constant presence. Reliable. Or, that’s what I thought anyway.”

“You said they betrayed you, but what happened exactly?” Anakin asked after a moment of silence between them.

“It started out like any other mission, more or less. We were finishing up, readying everything to head back to Coruscant. But then…then there were blaster bolts coming out of nowhere. At first I thought we had been ambushed. I was hit in the shoulder, went down, over a cliff. I was sure I was dead, but there was water not too far below. I was lucky, just ended up with another scar.” Almost without thinking, he lifted his hand to his shoulder blade where prison garb covered the long-healed wound.

“And you haven’t seen him until now?” He asked after a moment.

“No,” Ben shook his head. “I never thought I would again.”

“Maybe…maybe there’s some explanation. Brainwashing or something. Can the Force do that?”

“It’s possible, I suppose.”

“Are you gonna talk to him?”

“What choice do I have? I can’t exactly leave,” he laughed humorlessly.

“I guess I mean do you  _want_  to talk to him?”

“I don’t— it doesn’t matter.”

“Of  _course_  it matters Ben,” Anakin said sharply, the hand on his knee squeezing almost involuntarily. Ben looked up at him, surprised.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly after thinking for a long moment. “He might have answers I’ve been wondering about all this time. But it might be a ploy by the Empire to gain my trust.”

Anakin didn’t offer any advice, just nodded sympathetically. He bit his lip like he wanted to say something, but then seemed to change his mind, looking away.

“What is it?” Ben asked.

“No, nothing. Just. Be careful?”

“Of course,” he responded immediately. Anakin gave him a skeptical look like he just instinctively knew Ben had never been particularly concerned with his own wellbeing.

“I will be, I promise,” Ben smiled, gripping Anakin’s upper arm for just a moment. “Now, I think you’ve got some shielding to practice.”

“Alright  _Master_ , I get the hint,” he sighed in mock-exasperation, resuming the standard meditation position.

Ben smiled softly to himself. He still wasn’t sure what Cody’s sudden reappearance in his life meant but he somehow felt lighter all the same. 

 

 

Weeks passed before they saw the clone commander again— or so Anakin assumed judging by Ben’s reactions. To him all the guards seemed perfectly identical.

Ben hadn’t brought up the man again and Anakin hadn’t asked. He might’ve forgotten about him altogether if it weren’t for Ben’s obvious fretting. He tensed up every time a guard walked down the hall, became withdrawn in the minutes before the mealtime alarms sounded. After what Ben had told him, Anakin couldn’t rightly blame him. But Ben’s anxiety was contagious and it wasn’t long before it spread to both he and Quin.

In response Anakin worked doubly hard to cheer Ben up, even if it did often feel like an uphill battle. Despite his objections to the contrary, it didn’t take long for Anakin to pick up on how much Ben liked it when he called him ‘Master’. He wasn’t sure if it was a power trip thing or if it just made him feel like a Jedi again, but Anakin was more than happy to oblige either way.

He’d taken to calling him different things— sir, boss, and Master of course— whatever he thought might embarrass him the most. Every time without fail Ben would turn pink and screw his face up like he’d just eaten something sour, though he had at least stopped verbally complaining. For the most part. 

Anakin was especially proud of one particular occasion about a week after their encounter with the guard. Anakin, Ben, and Quin were sat at their usual spot in the cafeteria when Ben leaned over to speak to him.

“Anakin could you do me a favor?”

“Yeah, what is it Boss— need me to mess somebody up for you?” He asked, leaning forward conspiratorially and doing his very best to fight down a grin . 

“Anakin  _please_ , I’m not a crime lord,” Ben scoffed, running a hand over his face. Anakin was new to this whole Force business, at least as far as awareness of it went, but he was almost positive he could feel a hint of fondness emanating off of Ben. 

“You sure about that buddy? I mean you  _are_  in prison after all,” Quinlan said, pointing at him with his spoon.

“So are you,” Ben pointed out. “And you’re no more of a criminal than I am.”

“Speak for yourself; you don’t know what I got up to in my spare time,” he said, tone so dry Anakin might’ve been fooled if not for the way his eyes sparkled in amusement.

“I swear I wouldn’t hang around either of you if we weren’t locked up in here together,” Ben huffed.

“Don’t listen to him, he loves us.” Quin grinned, nudging at Ben’s shoulder. Anakin tried not to feel stupidly giddy at being included. It was in the brief moments like those that he could almost forget he was in prison.

 

 

The next few weeks were some of the most stressful of Cody’s life— that he could remember anyway. The worst part was pretending nothing was out of the ordinary, waiting for an opening to send a message out without being seen. That was no easy feat in a prison this size. Of course the guards weren’t watched nearly as closely as the prisoners were. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t near-constantly surrounded by cameras, droids, and other guards.

He kept an eye on the General from a distance, but didn’t approach him again without getting orders first. Cody’s memories were fuzzy at best but he didn’t think his General had looked so…ragged the last time he’d seen him. And the bar had been rather low to begin with; years caught in a galactic war was enough to leave anyone exhausted. But his General had always been strong, infallible even though they knew he wasn’t, really. This man had the same face but looked smaller somehow, and thinner for sure.  Cody tried not to think about that too much during his sleeping rotation as he lay beside dozens of men who all wore his face but seemed to have little else in common with him.

Finally, he found an opening between guard shifts and a secure channel to send his update. In all his time spent with them, he’d never known his fellow clones to find much want or need for private spaces, and the prison was no exception. There was, however, a small pantry tucked away in a corner of one of the guards’ common areas which prisoners had no access to. If timed just right, he could slip in as one batch of clones filed out of the room, and back out as the next made their way in.

It wasn’t the right time or place to include any details about the General; he didn’t feel safe enough to even send a holorecording, just a typed-out, coded message, kept as short and vague as possible: _Found Him. Alive._ —He debated on including “ _and well_ ,” thought the General’s mental state might be relevant to the mission, but dismissed it. If they wanted more details, they’d ask.— _Orders?_

It was another three days before he got word back, though now that he’d found the small gap in security he was at least able to check his comm most days. The message was almost as short as his had been, and contained just about as much information. _Approach with Extreme Caution. Trust is Vital._ And then, in a second message sent almost immediately after the other, as if they, too, had debated on whether or not to include it: _Remember what we told you._

Despite the message’s brevity, there was no confusion over just what it meant. He remembered everything they’d told him when he’d first woken up with all the clarity the rest of his recollections seemed to be missing. Suppressing the sick feeling unfurling in his gut, Cody deleted the message and returned the comm to its place inside his armor before slipping into the crowd of identically-clad guards.

It was almost time for his shift.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I do have a tumblr, http://marchofbirds.tumblr.com, which I've posted almost nothing on but feel free to say hey


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lot of feelings and not a whole lot of plot. But y'know, we'll get there.

 

 

It’d been nearly two weeks since his encounter with Cody and Ben, Quinlan and Anakin were on their rec hour. Quin and Anakin were working through a beginners form. In an effort to avoid drawing excessive attention, it was as noncombative as they came, but that hardly diminished Anakin’s excitement at finally adding a physical component to his training. Ben was sat off to the side, reading on his datapad and occasionally turning an eye their way to check Anakin’s progress. A shadow came over the sallow imitation at sunlight that lit the yard and that familiar prickling feeling washed over the back of Ben’s neck like a cold wave. He looked up for its source, knowing exactly who he’d find.

Sure enough, looming behind him was Cody in his Empire-issued armor, faceless as always. That bothered Ben now in a way it never had before, knowing what, who, was behind the helmet. Knowing it had made no difference when it really mattered. He opened his mouth to speak but his throat constricted, stomach churned. There were so many things he wanted to say, to ask but—

“Prisoner,” Cody barked, tone harsh. His voice was a shock after going so many years without hearing it. Ben didn’t answer beyond an inquisitive tilt of his head. “That datapad is being repossessed under suspicion of misuse.” His white, gloved hand reached out and snatched the datapad from Ben’s fingers roughly. Ben was too startled to resist, and probably wouldn’t have anyhow.

“Oh,” was all he said. His hands, now empty, fell limp at his sides.

Ben felt Quin freeze, Anakin’s hackles raise. “Hey what’re you—” the younger man started, but, without taking his eyes off Cody, Ben lifted a hand to calm him. He could almost hear Anakin’s teeth grind together as he struggled to hold his tongue; but he obeyed nevertheless.

“Will I get it back?” He asked after a moment of stunted silence between the four of them.

“You might, if it’s clean,” Cody’s answer was clipped, almost mechanical. And then, without another word, he turned and walked off. Any more than a few feet away and he was out of Ben’s limited range, indistinguishable from all the other guards.

As soon as he was gone Anakin muttered something in what Ben could only assume was Huttese, and Quin snorted in apparent agreement. Ben was almost certain Quin wasn’t fluent in the language, but he’d bet his freedom on the man having an encyclopedic knowledge on any and every known expletive in the galaxy. The thought almost made him laugh.

“That was him right? Your clone commander?” Anakin asked; Ben just nodded, not knowing what else to say. He felt strangely embarrassed, as if Anakin and Quin of all people would judge him for what appeared to be the clone’s latest betrayal.

“I wish you’d let me say something,” Anakin grumbled, frowning at the ground as if it’d had any part in their affairs. 

“It would’ve just made it worse,” Ben replied automatically.

“Yeah well,” Anakin shrugged. “It would’ve made me feel better.”

“Not when he knocked you on your ass it wouldn’t have,” Quin laughed, shaking his head. Knowing when he’d been beaten, Anakin had nothing to say to that.

“Well,” Ben said, clearing his throat and the tense atmosphere that’d fallen over them. “If Quinlan is the sensible one between you, Anakin you clearly need more training.”

Anakin groaned and rolled his eyes theatrically. “Let’s get back to it then.” He resumed the position he’d been holding before they’d been interrupted.

“You might as well join, got nothing else to do,” Quin pointed out, mirroring Anakin’s pose. Ben shrugged in easy acquiescence, following suit. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t use the distraction from the sting the encounter had left behind. Going through the motions of one of the most basic forms they’d taught him at the Temple, he could almost pretend he could still release his emotions into the Force. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend he was home.

 

The rest of the day was only noteworthy in that it seemed to stretch at least twice its natural length. That he didn’t see Cody again did little to loosen the knot in the pit of his stomach. Ben thought he’d been keeping his growing sense of unease under wraps remarkably well until he caught nearly identical expressions of concern on his friends faces the second they thought wasn’t looking. In the last half-hour they’d spent scrubbing and mopping their way from the kitchens to the fresher he’d caught Quinlan glancing at him out of the corner of his eye at least twice. He paused for a moment to look at himself in the mirror.

The lighting in the fresher was remarkably terrible, tinting everything a dingy blue-grey like it’d been seeped in dishwater for decades. Still though, Ben was self-aware enough to know the gauntness in his cheeks, dark circles under his eyes, couldn’t be completely attributed to the environment. General Kenobi commanded armies; he waded through mud and blood for months and years and kept his spine straight, eyes always looking forward. No matter how tired he got, or how hopeless things seemed, no one questioned his capabilities or confidence—except he himself, of course. Now he couldn’t even convince two people who were in just the same ship as he was that he could handle seeing an old friend without having a breakdown. He sighed and turned away from the face frowning back at him.

“You alright there pal?” Quin asked in a nonchalant tone that was so obviously forced Ben had to wonder how his friend had ever managed undercover work without getting spaced the first day.

“I just…keep thinking about Cody,” he said, opting for honesty. It wasn’t as if Quin didn’t already know what’d been on his mind. The man may have put on a show of it when it suited his purposes, but he was no idiot.

“I know it’s pointless to say this but, you should try not to let it get to you so much. That’s what they want, y’know? To break us down.”

“So that’s why you think he’s here—sent by the Emperor to get into our heads?” He asked anxiously, both needing to hear his friend’s honest input and wanting nothing more than to nurse the hope that the Cody he thought he’d known was somehow here now.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t see any other alternative,” he said, eyes warm and wide like he’d rather be telling him almost anything else in the galaxy at that moment.  “I mean what’s more likely? The guy who was probably working for Sidious the whole time, and already tried to kill you once is still working for him. Or that he tried to kill you for some other reason, and then somehow snuck his way into one of the highest security prisons in the galaxy to, what, save us?”

“No, no you’re right. I just,” he sighed again, leaning against the sink behind him for support. “You commanded them during the war too, the clones. Didn’t you grow to trust them, consider any them your friends?”

“Of _course_ I did Obi-Wan. And then they turned around and shot my Padawan in the back with a dozen or so blaster bolts, so I’m having a hard time seeing how that was anything but a mistake,” he hissed, his grip tightening on the mop he’d been holding until Ben almost wondered if he’d break it.

“I know, I’m sorry I didn’t mean—” he started, not commenting on the name-slip.

“No, I’m sorry.” Quin took a deep breath, shaking his head as if to clear the cloud that’d come between them so suddenly.  And just like that his face was soft again, the anger leaving as quickly as it’d come. “I, _we_ , all just lost a lot. I don’t want to lose any more. Trusting him again…seems like the wrong call.”

“You’re probably right,” Ben nodded, offering him a weak smile that Quin mirrored back at him. An uneasy silence fell over the two of them that lingered through the end of their shift. He didn’t mention the sick feeling he couldn’t shake at the thought of never speaking to Cody again, of not even trying to find out what exactly had happened.

By dinner though things had returned to normal between he and Quinlan, the other man nearly back to his usual defiantly-upbeat disposition. Both of which Ben was infinitely grateful for. Quin was right after all; they had already lost too much.

 

 

Another two days passed before anything further developed. As always Ben and Anakin parted ways with Quin as they were led back to their cell after dinner. Walking behind a guard that definitely wasn’t Cody, Ben wondered if he’d ever been this tired in his life. He must’ve been, at some point during the war or the first few months after the rise of the Empire—but for the life of him he couldn’t remember it. He sighed and Anakin glanced back at him, a concerned look on his face as if he’d somehow sensed Ben’s distress. Ben offered him a tired smile that even he knew looked forced, which only succeeded in making Anakin’s face scrunch up further.

The second the cell door closed behind them, Ben knew something had changed; someone had been there while they were gone. That in and of itself wasn’t unusual; cells were often checked at random for any little bits of contraband. But that wasn’t this. It didn’t take Force sensitivity to tell when a cell had been searched—guards had little incentive to hide the fact that they’d been there, and it showed. Beds would be overturned, blankets and pillows on the floor, any personal items they hadn't deemed interesting enough to confiscate strewn around. No, everything looked exactly how they’d left it. It just felt disturbed, like someone had left ripples in the smooth signature of the room. He looked up to find Anakin frowning back at him and he wondered if he sensed it too. The younger man though just shook his head after a moment, and took his usual spot on the floor in meditation position.

“Meditating voluntarily?” Ben asked, an admittedly weak attempt to replicate what had become their usual easy banter.

“Just trying to impress you, Master,” Anakin grinned.

“Keep trying,” Ben said, surprised to find himself genuinely smiling for the first time all day. Anakin let out a huff of mock-exasperation before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Ben shuffled around him to sit on his bed. Maybe he’d been imagining whatever it was he thought he’d felt; if he were starting to lose his touch after so long without the Force it would hardly be a surprise. He glanced around the room again regardless, as if he thought something was going to jump out at him. It was possible that someone had planted a bug or—

Then he saw it, sticking out from underneath his pillow, just barely: his datapad. He pulled it out from its hiding place and thumbed it on. It was his alright, even opened to the holonovel he’d been reading when Cody confiscated it. Ben chanced a quick look up, but Anakin’s back was still to him, his breathing deep and steady. It hadn’t come easy, but he really was getting better at meditation, Ben thought distantly.

He closed the holonovel, exiting to the main menu. Had Cody deleted any files? Added some? Despite how long Ben had had the thing, there wasn’t much on the datapad to begin with—wasn’t much he was _allowed_ to have. It didn’t take him long to comb through every single thing he had saved, and still he almost missed it. During his time in the Order, Ben had often written notes to himself on datapads; it’d been a necessity in those days when it seemed he always had ten dozen new things to deal with. Though every datapad came with a journaling function, he never bothered with it once he was imprisoned. There didn’t seem to be much point, he thought, not when anything he wrote down could be read at any given time. And so, for the first time ever, he tapped on the little journal icon and there it was. One entry.

He darkened the screen and slipped the datapad back underneath his pillow, heart hammering. The smart thing to do would be to delete it without even looking. He wanted, so much that his palms were clammy and numb, nothing more than to know what it said. But he heart Quin’s words echoing in his mind. And his friend was right; the likelihood that this was just another trap was, well, high. After deliberating for another moment he took a deep breath, and slid off the bunk to sit cross-legged on the floor. Anakin wasn’t the only one who could benefit from some quality meditation.

 

 

Meditating, and then talking with Anakin were all well and good for ignoring the message sitting on his datapad for a few hours, but then it came time for lights out and there was nothing left to distract him. He closed his eyes, tried deep breathing exercises, turned over, and over, but sleep wasn’t coming. Finally he gave in, pulling out the datapad from under his head and turning it on. His finger hovered over the unread entry for a good minute before he steeled all the resolve he didn’t feel and opened it.

The message was short and completely innocuous-looking, written in a code they’d used during the war. To anyone else it would look like a short note he’d written himself, but despite going years without practice, Ben could still read the underlying message as clearly as if it’d been written in Basic.

_Need to speak. Explain. Comm back. Secure channel open._

And sure enough, opening the messaging function, there was a single, short-distance channel available where before there’d been none. Almost without thinking he darkened the screen again and slipped it back into its hiding place.

Cody wanted to speak to him, to explain what had happened. He could have the answers Ben had been searching for all this time. But what explanation for betraying the Jedi Order, for having a hand in murdering almost everyone he’d ever known, could suffice? Laying on his back, staring straight up at the bottom of the bunk above him, Ben listened to the thudding of his own heart and the sounds of the prison around him. In many ways it was just like nearly every other night he’d spent in this place over the last three years—but it certainly didn’t feel that way. The prospect of finally having another thread to the outside world, to his past life, left his head spinning. Quin was right. He didn’t even know why he was considering responding; trusting the clones had already cost him everything once. But just letting it hang there, not responding at all, just didn’t _feel_ right. The bed over his head creaked, and Anakin’s face appeared over the side.

“Hey Ben?” He whispered into the relative darkness.

“Mm?”

“Are you okay? Tell me if I’m prying but you seem kind of…distant maybe?” Although he couldn’t see it what with the angle and lighting, Ben could just picture what Anakin’s expression must’ve looked like. Brows furrowed, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He found himself surprisingly warmed by the concern. There really wasn’t any reason, he decided, not to share the message with Anakin.

“No, I—you’re right.”

“Is it that guard?” Anakin asked when he failed to elaborate further. Ben blinked in surprise; Anakin really was a lot sharper than anyone gave him credit for.

“Yes.”

“I figured, after what he did the other day with your datapad.” At the mention of it Ben swore he could feel the thing burning hot under his pillow. “That was a, uh…messed up thing to do,” Anakin said, seeming to choose his words carefully.

“Well that’s just it— I think it might've all part of a bigger plan.” Ben felt ridiculous even as he said it though, Quinlan’s skeptical visage scoffing at him behind his eyes.

“What kind of plan?” Anakin asked eagerly, leaning forward so far Ben was a little afraid he’d topple right off the bed. Perhaps telling him before Quin had been the right call.

“Well…” Ben hesitated, fingers hovering in air. But, kriff it: he’d already come this far, and there’d be no putting Anakin off the scent now. He reached underneath his head and pulled out the datapad. He flicked it on before offering it up to Anakin’s suddenly outstretched hand.

“Is this the same one?” He asked, wide-eyed expression illuminated from the light of the screen.

“It is. I found it here earlier today. He left me a message on it, see?”

“Erm…is this a list of things to pick up at the commissary or...?”

“Oh, it’s in a code we used during the war. He’s rigged a secure channel, wants me to message him back.”

Anakin frowned at the screen, as if he could discern its secrets by glaring at it hard enough. “What are you gonna do?” He handed the datapad back to him, apparently having given up on making sense of the message himself.

“I’m not sure,” Ben admitted with a sigh, tucking the pad back under his pillow.

“Well what do you  _want_  to do?”

Ben opened his mouth, closed it again. Once again, he hadn’t even considered what he wanted. Even if the thought had crossed his mind, he would’ve just dismissed it. At that very moment an automatic  _it doesn’t matter_  sat on the tip of his tongue. But he knew what Anakin would have to say about that. So instead, a long stretch of silence passed as he considered the question. Anakin just waited, uncharacteristically patient as if he’d expected this exact reaction.

“I want to speak with him,” Ben answered finally, a little surprised by how true the response felt.

“Then that’s what you should do,” Anakin said simply.

“It’s not that easy; the last time I trusted him it didn’t go very well. I fear that my judgement may be clouded.”

“First of all you’re like the wisest being I’ve ever met, and it sounds to me like those clones had everyone else fooled too.”

“Well, yes I suppose that’s true,” he couldn’t exactly disagree with that.

“See, so you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Second, if he _is_ working for the Empire, you can probably get information out of him without him even realizing it, if you play your hand right.”

“I don’t know Anakin, that’s a dangerous game to play,” Ben protested halfheartedly.

“Maybe so, but you’re the one at an advantage.”

“Really? And what advantage is that?” Ben asked doubtfully.

“Well you’re the famous Negotiator aren’t you? You’re a pro at getting what you want out of people.” Ben could hear the grin in Anakin’s voice and couldn’t be entirely sure whether he was being teased, flattered, or both.

He decided to split the difference with a scoff and “I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think too hard.” Ben could hear him rolling over on the bunk above him. “Just follow your gut, or the Force or…” the last bit of whatever he was saying was drowned out with a long yawn. Then it was quiet between them again, and Ben was back to staring up into the near-dark.  

He didn’t feel nearly as unmoored as before their conversation however. He still had his doubts but perhaps Anakin was right. Heart thundering, he retrieved the datapad and once again pulled up the message. Without deliberating on it any further he started a draft for a new written comm. He kept it short and to the point _I’m Listening_ , and sent it out on the one available channel.

Ben couldn’t say if he’d been stricken by some momentary insanity brought on by Anakin’s overconfidence but he felt suddenly as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He’d made a decision; all he could do now was wait.

 

The comm on Cody’s belt chirped. He knew he was taking a risk leaving it on rather than waiting until he got a moment alone to check it. But the anticipation of waiting for a reply now that he’d left a message where he knew the General would find it was too much to ignore. Besides, he reasoned, it wasn’t unusual for guards to comm one another and it wasn’t as if anyone else could tell which channel a message was coming in on just by looking at him. Still though, his heart pounded as he read what his General had sent him. Two words, but two more than he could’ve hoped for.

In the months since his awakening Cody had had more emotions to contend with than he had in the rest of his life put together. Yet few of them had compared to the thrill that lanced up his spine at the short message staring back at him then. He wasn’t sure whether the General believed Cody could be trusted, or if he was simply desperate and out of options. It didn’t really matter, he decided; either way, things were proceeding as planned.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come complain or say hey or w/e at my tumblr http://marchofbirds.tumblr.com/


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not gonna apologize for taking five million years to update because I'm in law school, it's finals season, and my brain is literal soup rn. BUT I will say that I do have most of the rest of this story outlined and I will finish it. It just might take awhile.

 

Cody was pretty sure clones weren’t designed to suffer from insomnia. He had a hard time imagining a scenario where a tool caught in a state of anxiety could be useful to anyone. And yet there he was, lying in the dark in the middle of his sleep cycle, no closer to sleep than when he first lay down.

The thing he’d discovered about his… awakening was that lost memories didn’t come flooding back all at once. They trickled in slowly, each one being pried from somewhere deep in his subconscious, triggered by any number of innocuous nothings.

Having contact with his General, no matter how brief, it seemed had knocked a few things loose. He could see things from before as if they were playing out before his eyes. His training, certain missions, things that had just been vague sensory impressions. 

What he didn’t understand was how to deal with the onslaught of confusing feelings that came along with the sudden clarity. No one had trained him for this. He wasn’t equipped to—

His comm chirped from where he had it tucked securely into his underclothes. He glanced around the darkened room but if any of the sleeping guards had heard, they gave no indication of it. He pulled the comm unit out of its hiding place, eyes skimming over the words as quickly as possible. 

_“Comm when you can, a line will be left open.”_  

They wanted to actually  _speak_ with him? They must know how dangerous that could be for both of them. A cold stone of dread sunk to the pit of his stomach. He must have made some kind of mistake if they were willing to take this kind of risk just to speak with him. Had he given away his position or left something vital out of his report? 

The comm unit was safely out of sight but he could feel it burning a hole in his skin, taunting him. If he’d thought he was too anxious to sleep before, it was nothing compared to what he felt after reading the message. No, he decided, he’d have to speak with them as soon as possible— if he had to wait too long the anxiety would kill him before anything else could.

 

 

Anakin and Ben were up before the rest of their wing, training as usual. Well, Anakin was training anyway. He was sat on the duracrete floor, legs splayed out wide, reaching for one foot then the other, back and forth. He could reach about halfway down his shin on either side and was straining.

Ben, on the other hand, was lounging on the bed offering up (spectacularly unhelpful) criticism. He  _claimed_  there wasn’t enough room in the cell for both of them to stretch at the same time, and that may have been true but it still seemed like a load of poodoo to Anakin.

“I don’t see why I have to do this,” Anakin grunted, fingertips shaking as he struggled to reach the top of his foot.

“Even Jedi can’t rely on the Force to do everything, Anakin. The things we’re able to do don’t come without intense physical training too, which— if I recall— is exactly what you’ve been clamoring for.”

“Well I’ve never seen  _you_  stretching,” he pouted, reaching for the other foot. 

“I’m not the one in training, and you know there isn’t exactly a lot of extra space in this cell,” Ben pointed out reasonably.

“Sounds like an excuse. Are you sure you can still do all the stuff you’re making me do?”

Ben raised an eyebrow and, spectacularly, took the bait. “Move over.”

Anakin bit down the grin that threatened to take over his face and scooted across the floor, pulling his knees in to give Ben room. Ben sat next to him, mirroring his earlier pose. He reached out, effortlessly touching his toes on one foot, then the other. Then, probably just to taunt Anakin further, spread his legs wider, leaning forward until his cheek was a few inches off the floor.

“You’re right; I’m not  _nearly_  as limber as I used to be,” he said, somehow still managing to look self-satisfied despite the awkward angle.

Anakin felt a rush of heat, and not just in embarrassment. Despite his best efforts to maintain eye contact, his gaze wandered. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t  _noticed_ the way Ben looked before, but the oversized prison uniforms hid a lot and, well.

Despite himself, Anakin was almost unable to redirect his gaze in a more appropriate direction. For better or worse, Ben didn’t seem to feel the need to interrupt his staring, instead just letting his eyes find their way back up to his face. When they finally did, an embarrassing stretch of time later, Ben was wearing an expression so smug it could’ve come right out of Quinlan’s repertoire. His eyes were sparkling, smirk visible from underneath his shaggy beard. Anakin’s heart skipped a beat, stomach flipping in equal parts affection and mild distress. It was during times like these that Anakin realized how little he really understood about Ben. Most of the time he seemed so inscrutable—almost as if he existed on another plane altogether. If Anakin didn’t have Quinlan to compare him to, he’d assume all Jedi were simply ascetic and lofty. Of course the fact that _some_ Jedi weren’t so classically unapproachable didn’t say anything about Ben necessarily. But then Ben would give him this unmistakably cocky look, and Anakin swore he was flirting with him. Did that kind of thing—flirting, romance—even _register_ with Ben?

_Aaand_ he’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t realized he was still staring. Kriff, he needed to get his reactions under control.

Whether Ben thought Anakin was just impressed by his flexibility or suspected something else, Anakin couldn’t be sure— and certainly wasn’t about to ask. Instead he straightened his legs out in front him and bent down, reaching for his toes. He didn’t come anywhere close but it did the job of hiding his face, and that was all that really mattered at the moment.

“Alright you win, point taken,” he said, mostly just hoping Ben would stop  _looking_  at him long enough to fight his blush back down.

 

 

Cody closed the door to his usual pantry, enclosing himself in the now-familiar space. In a break from his usual routine, he didn’t remove his helmet. Instead he opened a secure comm channel through his armor,  volume on low, hoping to keep the sound muffled inside the helmet. So long as he kept his voice down and no one happened to open the door until he’d cut the comm, he was as safe as he could hope to be.

It wasn’t a full minute before the holocall went through, a little blue hologram flickering into existence in front of him. The figure’s face was obscured underneath a hood, but the voice was one of the few things in the galaxy Cody found enduringly familiar.

“Commander?”

“Yes sir?” His voice, though muffled inside his helmet, seemed unnaturally loud in the small space.

“Is your mission on track?”

“Yes— I believe so sir,” he said uncertainly. Why did this require a holocall? Did they not trust his reports?

“And General Kenobi, how is he?” Panic lanced through Cody’s body; his reports _had_ been insufficient. They had wanted to know about the General’s wellbeing after all.

“He’s…healthy.” Cody answered hesitantly. Were they interested in the General’s emotional state—how would he even measure that? The silence stretched on and with no other choice, he elaborated. “He’s thinner than before; he seems…tired.” He frowned, thinking for a moment; what were they really asking him? “But he isn’t alone. He has a cellmate. I think they’re friends…he seems more relaxed around him.”

“Yes, we knew Vos was with him.”

“No, not Vos. It’s someone else, a younger man. I haven’t been briefed on him.”

“Do you know anything about him? A name, or why he’s in prison?” Cody wasn’t sure whether the slight rise in the quiet voice indicated distress or interest.

“I think his name is Skywalker. Other than that…I don’t know sir,” Cody admitted, feeling that knot of dread that’d been lying dormant in his gut tighten again. How hadn’t it occurred to him to look into the General’s cellmate? What use would anyone have for him if he couldn’t do his—

“You have a name, find out everything you can about him, whether he could be useful.” The _you should have already taken care of this_ went unspoken, Cody thought.

“Yes, sir.”

“Remember, we chose you for a reason. We need his trust, and you can get it.”

“I just—what do I say to him?” Cody asked, internally kicking himself for his obvious insecurity. “How much should I tell him?”

“Tell him whatever you need to. We’re on a limited timeline and we’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Understood sir,” Cody lied. He _didn’t_ understand, not really. But they’d chosen him, trusted him over everyone else—he’d just have to trust himself, too.

“Good. We’ll be in touch.” Without another word, the little figure disappeared, leaving him alone in the dark.

 

 

Despite his lingering misgivings about the younger man, Quinlan had grown rather fond of Anakin Skywalker over the weeks that they’d come to know each other. He had to admit, Obi-Wan wasn’t wrong about Anakin’s talent; they had already jumped right into the next standard form. Quin was demonstrating the motions for the third time that day, Anakin next to him, mimicking every pose, as had become their routine. Anakin hadn’t seemed to find the first particularly challenging and Quin had expected more of the same but for the last two days, he seemed…off somehow.

“Is my teaching boring you Skywalker?” He asked, not shifting out of position.

“What? No, sorry—I’m just a little distracted,” he sputtered, cheeks reddening.

“What could _possibly_ be going on around here that’s more interesting than being trained by a Jedi Knight?” Quin frowned, feigning insult. Obi-Wan never would’ve fallen for it, but it was still so easy to make Anakin squirm.

“I um…” he bit his lip clearly weighing his options. Quin shifted smoothly into the next pose. In his haste to follow suit, Anakin somehow stepped on his own foot and then Quin’s.

“Watch it Skywalker!” He yelped, stepping back and out of Anakin’s path.

“Sorry!”

“Why don’t you just tell me what’s bothering you before you injure us both.”

“It’s nothing really…” Anakin trailed off, gaze snapping up to meet Quinlan’s. It was too late though, Quin had already followed his abandoned eye-line, which led, predictably, straight to where Obi-Wan was sulking off to the side with his datapad. Quin bit back about twelve cutting remarks. Skywalker clearly hadn’t realized how _painfully_ obvious his pining had become, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t get anything out of him if he started teasing him now. Better to let him give himself away. “Nothing huh?”

“I guess I’ve just been wondering about the…culture of the Jedi,” he said after a long moment. Well, that wasn’t where Quin expected the conversation to go.

“Our culture?” He asked, getting back into position where they’d left off, though a foot or so further away, hoping to avoid any more bruising. If they stood still too long Obi-Wan might start asking questions and Quin’s snooping would have to be cut short.

“Yeah, or, well what was it like, being a Jedi?” He carefully copied Quin’s stance, form much cleaner than before.

“You haven’t asked Ben about it?”

“I have, I was just wondering what it was like from your perspective,” he said, a little to innocently in Quin’s opinion.

“Alright,” he answered, deciding to let his suspicions slide for now. “It was…hard. A lot of work, but satisfying. Did you wanna know anything in particular?”

Anakin hummed, frowning, and Quin wondered if he was actually thinking of a question to ask, or just stalling so as not to seem too eager.

“Did you have a lot of freedom in the Order?” He asked, finally.

“More than in here,” Quin snorted.

“Right, obviously,” Anakin’s laugh was pitchy and nervous. “Ben mentioned the Jedi had a code, what was that like? Was it very restrictive?”

“I guess that depends on who you ask—it was for me. But I guess I was never exactly a paradigm of Jedi values.” Quin glanced over at Anakin who just nodded diplomatically, clearly trying to appear neutral.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to be a Jedi to notice the differences between Ben and I,” he laughed. “He was always the council’s favorite. And I was…not.”

“Why’s that?” Anakin asked, adjusting his stance to better match Quin’s.

Quin thought for a moment before responding. In the old days he probably would’ve had no problem spitting out a few disparaging remarks about the council and moving on. Now none of them were here to defend themselves, and they never would be again. As much as it didn’t really matter anymore, he felt the need to give a fair answer. “I wasn’t the best at letting go of my emotions, or my attachments for that matter.”

“What, uh, what kind of attachments were you not allowed to have?” Anakin asked, almost succeeding in sounding nonchalant. And there it was; he’d finally shown his hand. Quin had to admit, he might not have guessed where Skywalker’s line of questions was headed if he hadn’t already known the destination.

“It wasn’t about the _type_ so much as the _strength_ of the attachment,” he answered honestly, deciding to be (slightly) merciful. “The Order believed any attachment too strong to let go of was a path to the Dark Side. Some found that tenant harder to abide by than others.”

“I’m guessing Ben wasn’t one of those who struggled with it though, right?”

“Well…he had his moments,” Quin smiled. “In my _very_ humble opinion, he was one of the best Knights the Order ever had, but his heart’s always been a little too big for his own good.”

“So he broke the Code?” Anakin had abandoned any semblance of indifference, though he hadn’t broken form again at least.

“No one’s perfect,” he grinned. Anakin rolled his eyes but didn’t press him for more, clearly picking up on the underlying message: _if you want to know more, you'll have to ask him yourself_.

“But can’t attachment lead a person to do the right thing? I know I wasn’t raised into this stuff, but I don’t get how caring about someone could be a path to the Dark Side.”

“Love can lead a person to do crazy things, Kid.”

Anakin opened his mouth to reply, but just then the buzz of the alarm echoed across the yard, announcing the end of their rec hour. Ben finally tore his eyes away from his datapad and rose to meet them.

“Did you make much progress?” He asked as they made their way back into their wing.

“Yeah,” Quin said, and Anakin’s eyes flickered up to meet his for an instant. “I think you learned quite a bit today, don’t you Skywalker?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess I did.”

Quin wondered for a moment if he shouldn’t warn the kid about not getting his hopes up. He wasn’t the first person to hopelessly pine after Obi-Wan and probably wouldn’t be the last. He hadn’t been lying earlier; Obi-Wan _was_ too kind-hearted for his own good. Quin didn’t have that issue. He’d spent too long doing the Order’s dirty work to have many compunctions about using people when necessary. And if Obi-Wan was right about how powerful Skywalker was, his feelings might be something they could use to their advantage. But Anakin was…good. Regardless, he decided, the moment for it had passed.

Maybe, _maybe_ if Anakin brought it up again, he’d consider it.

 

 

Another day had gone by without word from Cody and Ben had started to wonder if he wasn’t going to respond after all. Ben felt almost like a jilted lover, continually checking his datapad, which stubbornly continued to show no new messages. He sighed, dropping it down on the mattress beside him resignedly. He’d spent a lifetime cultivating his patience only to find it beyond his grasp when he needed it most.

Ben forced his thoughts into the present, deciding perhaps it would help to meditate, clear his mind. Besides, he thought, it would be good for Anakin to keep to his daily meditation routine, and his ever-stubborn student was unlikely to adhere to it on his own.

“Anakin?” He spoke up, breaking the silence between them. It was then he realized the other man hadn’t spoken in the past few hours, which was wildly unusual for him.

“Yeah?” Anakin replied, voice travelling down from the top bunk. He sounded startled and a bit distracted, though it was hard to gauge as Ben couldn’t see his expression.

“Are you alright?” He asked, forgetting his original intention of requesting a meditation session.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine just…” he trailed off and the two of them sat in silence for a moment before Anakin seemed to come to a decision, jumping off his bunk and landing on the ground in front of Ben.

“What is it?” Ben asked, trying not to let the concern seep into his voice.

“Well, you know how you said I could ask about your life before? I guess I was just wondering…” he shuffled his feet, hovering over Ben uncertainly. “You can tell me to kriff off if it’s too personal, but—”

Just then the datapad Ben had left discarded lit up, signaling an incoming message. “Oh!” He breathed, scooping it up without hesitation. He unlocked it and opened the message, eyes quickly sweeping over the encoded words. All thoughts of patience, meditation, and the conversation Anakin had been fumbling his way through were sapped from his mind as he took in the information before him.

“What is it?” Anakin asked, sitting down next to him. Ben wished that Anakin understood the coded language so he could just hand over the datapad without explanation, not trusting himself to speak just then.

“It’s…well,” he cleared his throat. “Answers to questions I’ve been asking myself since the beginning of the war,” he said, overwhelming shock slowly giving way to disbelief. Quinlan, he thought, was not going to like any of this one bit.   

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

“ _Mind control chips_? Really, that’s what he told you?” Quin paused in his work to make sure Obi-Wan understood the exact level of incredulity he was trying to convey.

“That’s what he said, yes,” Obi-Wan sighed. “Think about it— it explains everything.”

“Does it?”

“Hundreds of thousands of clones, all loyal to the Republic, to the _Jedi_ suddenly turn around all at once and kill their generals? What other explanation makes as much sense?”

“The one you’ve been avoiding all this time: that they were always loyal to Sidious.”

“I don’t believe that,” Obi-Wan said, and the stubborn set to his jaw told Quin everything he needed to know. This argument was going nowhere.

“Are you going to tell Anakin?” He asked instead.

“I…already have,” Obi-Wan's proud façade cracked slightly then, shades of guilt seeping through.

“Oh. Well, what did he think?” Quin wasn’t hurt that his oldest friend hadn’t come to him first. It made sense; Anakin and he shared a cell after all.

“He wanted to know what you thought.”

“Is that your roundabout way of asking me for advice?”

“Maybe.”

“You wanna know what I think you should say to him? Nothing.” Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak but Quin held up a hand to stop him before he could get a word out. “I know he was your friend—I get it. But you asked, so I’m telling you. I don’t think anything good is going to come out of this.”

“Alright, noted,” Obi-Wan said seriously. Quin knew him well enough to recognize the look in his eye though. The council may have considered Obi-Wan to be as close to a perfect Jedi as any Knight came, but Quin knew him first and foremost as one of the most stubborn men he had ever met.

“Let me know what he says next.”

“Will do,” he shot back, not even bothering to look contrite.

 

Ben was sat in his bunk, back resting against the wall, thinking. After they had returned from their midday meal he had resolved to meditate his uncertainty away, even if he couldn’t effectively release it into the Force. Over an hour later, however, and he had long since given up, instead just staring at the blank wall of the cell. It had been two days since Quin warned him off of responding to Cody’s message, three days since receiving the message itself.

Stewing in his worries wasn’t doing any good— and Force knew his conversation with Quinlan had been less than enlightening. Ben didn’t know why he thought Quin might’ve been of any help in the first place; he so rarely was. That wasn’t fair, and Ben knew it. But he was at a loss, growing more hopeless by the second. He had always been so good with words but in that moment, he just didn’t know what to say. Should he offer him comfort? Ask him for more information? Fill him in on what had happened to him in the years they hadn’t seen one another?

What if Quin was right and maintaining contact with Cody was a mistake? What if—

“Hey Ben?” Anakin’s voice cut through the relative silence of the cell, startling him.

“Yes?”

“I know I don’t…I mean I’m not sure if it’s my place to say but I believe him, the guard. Cody. I think he’s telling the truth.” The sincerity in his voice made Ben’s heart ache strangely. He cleared his throat in an attempt to dismiss the sudden sentimentality.

“Why’s that?” Ben visibly perked up, not bothering to hide his interest.

“I just have a feeling,” he said matter-of-factly. “And I’m almost always right about those.”

“Even with your limited connection to the Force?”

“First of all, I think it has more to do with my impeccable smuggler’s instincts. And second, yes even in here I haven’t  _quite_  lost my edge.”

“Oh really?” Ben asked, allowing shades of teasing skepticism into his voice.

“Well, I was right about you,” he replied, sounding much more serious than he had a moment earlier. Ben swallowed heavily; that ache in his chest was back, moving its way up to knot in his throat. He wasn’t sure whether to label it fondness or guilt.

“Anakin…Thank you,” he said finally, hating how unsteady his voice came out. He wasn’t quite sure what he was thanking him for. Gratefully though, Anakin didn’t ask.

“Any time.” And then, almost immediately, “Have you written him back yet?”

“No,” Ben sighed. Anakin really did need to work on his patience. “I have to send the right message,” he said, feeling a bit ridiculous even as it came out of his mouth.

“Don’t you think you’re maybe overthinking this a bit?”

“This is _important_ , Anakin,” he insisted, still frowning at the mostly-blank screen.

“I know it is. Why don’t you just say you’re glad to see him again, ask if he’s alright, then ask him how he got un-brainwashed or whatever,” he said as if it were nothing at all. Ben could just hear his shrug, though he couldn’t see him.

“That’s…not bad actually.” It was possible his impetuous young student was right, and he was overthinking things. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

“You’re welcome,” Anakin said, purposefully smug.

Though it would go unseen, Ben rolled his eyes. He stared down at the pad for another minute or two before finally crafting a message.

 

 

It had been _days_ , and things were still tense between Quin and Obi-Wan. Quin supposed he could attribute it to Obi-Wan’s ever-enduring Jedi patience, but kriff if that man couldn’t hold a grudge. Of course, if asked, Obi-Wan would swear he wasn’t angry; that would be unbecoming, after all. And it was true that they hadn’t been fighting exactly. But the easy banter that usually flowed between them had all but tapered off, and Obi-Wan had been markedly distant since their unpleasant conversation. Whatever Obi-Wan wanted to call it, the result was the same. Quin was going to have to be the one to make a showing of goodwill, let him know he was just fine with Obi-Wan talking to that karking clone. Even if he very much was not.

Quin sat down across from Obi-Wan and Anakin for their morning meal, as he did every day. Obi-Wan said nothing, choosing instead to take an overenthusiastic bite of his tasteless mush, eyes flickering around the room—conveniently avoiding Quin’s own. Anakin offered an uncomfortable smile, clearly unsure how to navigate the situation. Quin took one last silent moment to mourn his lost pride before asking:

“You get a reply from your guard?” It still came out sharper than he intended, the last word in particular dripping with a derision he hadn’t meant to express.  

“Not yet,” Obi-Wan said, visibly bristling, though at Quin’s tone or the question itself, he wasn’t sure. Anakin sat up straighter, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest. He scrunched up his eyebrows, his uncomfortable smile from a moment earlier morphing into a frown aimed directly at Quinlan. It was all Quin could do not to laugh out loud at that; Obi-Wan’s golden boy trying to protect him from his oldest friend. But that, he decided, would not be productive.  

“Look,” he said instead. “You know I’ll always support you. I just want you to be careful—don’t trust him, at least not right away.”

“I _know_ that,” Obi-Wan said, all but rolling his eyes.

“I’m not saying you’re stupid Ben. But you expect the best of people, especially people you care about, even when you shouldn’t. So just try to take a step back, approach this as if he wasn’t your friend?” Quin spoke softly, trying to infuse his words with a level of earnestness he rarely demonstrated.

Obi-Wan’s expression softened at that, his eyes regaining their familiar warmth. “I’ll try,” he said, and Quin knew that time around that he meant it. Glancing back and forth between the two, Anakin slumped back down in his seat, apparently deciding he was no longer a threat. If Quin didn’t know better, he would even say Anakin looked a little embarrassed at his reaction. As he should be, Quin thought; if anyone had Obi-Wan’s best interests at heart, it was him.

Not that he could really fault the kid for it. Force knew there was no one in the galaxy who needed more people looking out for him than Obi-Wan Kenobi, with his self-destructive streak a parsec wide. Though, it did make him wonder what Anakin’s reaction would be if Obi-Wan were actually in danger—how far would those protective instincts stretch, if pushed? He tucked the thought away for further consideration.

“When you get a chance, ask him what he’s doing here, and what he’s trying to get out of contacting you now,” he said, now that they could discuss the clone situation openly.

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment, eyebrows furrowing, and Quin just knew he was about to insist that the guard didn’t have an ulterior motive for messaging him out of the blue. But then, “That’s a good idea; I’ll ask him,” he nodded.

Quin felt a wave of relief at that. If Obi-Wan was determined to be stupid, he, at the very least, didn’t have to be an idiot about it.

 

 

Cody checked his communicator for the third time in as many hours, anxiety mounting. It had been days and the General hadn’t sent him any messages. It wasn’t his place to question his superior’s decisions (even if he wasn’t technically Cody’s superior anymore), kark it wasn’t even his place to  _worry_  like he was. Weapons didn’t have anxiety. But, but why hadn’t he—

His communicator, still face-up in his palm, finally,  _blessedly_ , lit up. Despite his best efforts, Cody let out an involuntary sigh of relief. He opened the message immediately, reading and rereading it in a matter of minutes. The General was asking more questions; this was anticipated, expected. He wanted to know how Cody was freed of the influence of the chips.

His fingers hesitated over the screen. How much did his commanders want him to reveal? If he told the truth and the wrong people intercepted the transmission somehow, or if the General’s cell was raided, or, or—

But Cody remembered then. He was chosen for this mission specifically, because they trusted his judgement. Now was the time to use it, to prove that they hadn’t been mistaken in trusting him with this assignment. He wasn’t as clever as the General, or as powerful as his commanders, but this he could do.

 

 

Since Quinlan and Ben worked out whatever it was that had them so at odds with one another, Ben had been in a much better mood. Between that and finally figuring out what it was he wanted to say to Cody, Ben seemed more at peace than he had been in weeks. For the life of him, Anakin couldn’t understand how someone as wise and powerful as Ben could doubt himself so much. Though, he supposed, that was probably what kept Ben so humble and grounded.

In that moment Ben was sitting in the single chair they had in the cell, eyes trained on his datapad. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed what Anakin suspected. He was just engaged in a bit of leisurely reading and not, for the first time in what seemed like ages, agonizing over his correspondence with the clone guard. Anakin took a deep breath, steeling his resolve. He wasn’t likely to get a better opportunity.

“Hey, uh, Ben?” He asked, hoping he sounded as nonchalant as he did not at all feel.

“Hm?” Ben looked up from the datapad, not seeming to sense that anything was amiss. Thank the Force—or whatever.

“I was just wondering, when you were in the Order did you have any…romantic entanglements?” He did all he could to keep the inward cringe from showing on his face; could he have _found_ a more awkward way to ask that question?

“Did I…?” Ben trailed off, blinking in confusion as he took in Anakin’s question. “Why are you asking?” He didn’t sound offended, but Anakin scrambled to explain himself nonetheless.

“I just wanted to know more about life as a Jedi. You mentioned a code, and I know there was some sort of ban on attachments. Quin said it wasn’t the type but the strength of the attachment, and I guess I was just wondering if you were allowed to have…those sorts of relationships.” The words tumbled over themselves, all fighting to escape Anakin’s mouth at once.

“You…asked Quin about it?” Ben asked and _kark_ , why had he told him that?

“Uh, yeah. Like I said, I was curious,” Anakin shrugged like he wasn’t nearly drowning in flop sweat.

Ben looked at him searchingly for a long moment before seeming to come to the conclusion that Anakin’s motivations were proper enough. Anakin tried not to be audible about letting out the breath he’d been holding.

“Attachment was forbidden but I…wasn’t the best Jedi,” Ben said, eyes downcast.

“Bantha shit,” Anakin spat out before he could bite his tongue. Ben raised an eyebrow at him, though Anakin could almost swear there was a fond glint in his eyes. “Sorry, continue.”

“ _Romantic entanglements_ , as you put it, weren’t forbidden per se, but meaningful ones certainly were. If I’m being honest, I can’t say I always adhered to that precept.”

“What were they like?” Anakin asked, hoping he wasn’t pressing his luck.

“Stubborn, smart,” Ben let out a short laugh, “I suppose you could say I had a type.”

“So, what happened?”

“It didn’t end well,” he answered, suddenly looking distant. Anakin felt his cheeks tinge in shame; he’d messed everything up again.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—you probably don’t want to think about that.”

“No, it’s alright. It’s actually nice…to think about them as they were, once in a while.” Ben smiled softly, his eyes crinkly around the edges and kind, though the traces of pain were still visible there. Anakin felt his throat tighten suddenly. He resisted the urge to pull the older man into a hug, knowing Ben probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Jedi stoicism and whatnot. Kriff, and all this just because he wanted to know if Ben was celibate or not.

“I feel like every time I ask you anything about your past it turns into me apologizing for bringing up painful memories,” he said, accompanied with some uncomfortable approximation of a laugh.

“I suppose I do have more than my fair share of them,” Ben looked strangely apologetic at that, as if there were anything for _him_ to be sorry for.  

“Well I still like learning about it, your life I mean,” he said, eyes locking fixedly with Ben’s.

“That’s nice of you Anakin, to humor an old man.” Ben seemed a bit uncomfortable then, maybe overwhelmed with Anakin’s intensity.

“Right,” Anakin snorted. “Because you’re _so_ ancient.”

Wonderfully, Ben laughed and though Anakin had never seen him without a beard, he suspected he might have a pair of dimples hiding under all of his scruff.

 

 

Reading over the message for the third or fourth time, Cody had to fight down the sudden swell of memories. The General, his General, wanted to know how he was doing, if he was alright. Cody had forgotten, but that was common during the war. His General checking up on the condition of his men, as if it really mattered beyond their ability to complete their mission. Cody stopped that line of thinking in its tracks. That wasn’t productive. He would update the General on the status of his wellbeing, answer his questions.

He got as specific as he dared, not wanting to include too many details, just in case. A handful of his brothers’ chips malfunctioned; they figured out how to deactivate the others, including his. It was risky though, if they failed to incapacitate the programmed clone before deactivating his chip, he could give away their position. That his brothers had managed to free him was testimony to their incredible skill, as well as a good deal of luck. Cody explained this all, naming no names or locations. Hopefully it was enough to begin to rebuild the trust the General had once had in him.

Cody looked over the message a final time before hitting send. Then he turned back to the part of his mission still looming over him—figuring out who in the galaxy was _Anakin Skywalker_?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://marchofbirds.tumblr.com/


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot picks up a bit in this chapter & then faster in the next two or three.

 

Life in prison was repetitive by design. This left Ben with a lot of time to mull over his thoughts and concerns, which is exactly what he had been doing nearly all night. This was becoming more and more of a problem since Anakin had arrived. Ben’s feelings for Anakin, he was coming to realize as he lay staring at the bunk above his, were becoming…complicated. He hadn’t yet figured out what to classify them as exactly—if he were pressed, he might say fondness. But the conversation they had had the day before, about his previous partners, had thrown him off balance. The intensity with which he looked at him, and why was he asking in the first place?

And then there was the way the entire exchange had warmed Ben from the inside out. Even in the midst of his youth, he never would have considered himself a perfect Jedi; he knew what attachment felt like. And _this_ felt suspiciously close to that.

Ben had to wonder though, what did it mean to follow the code of an Order that no longer existed? Was it even possible to fall to the Dark Side if he had almost no connection to the Force? When someone became one with the Force it was best to let them go, not to mourn their passing—Ben knew this. But in that moment, he couldn’t help but miss the guidance of Master Yoda, or that of his own Master. Though he had been without that for far longer than the Empire had been in power. He sighed into the darkness, taking a moment to listen for the slow, deep breathing of Anakin sleeping above him. It was steady, grounding somehow.

There was a larger problem than his own discomfort with the possibility of attachment as well. The closer he and Anakin became, the more his guilt ate away at him. He may have grown to care for the younger man over the months that they had known each other, but the fact of the matter was, he and Quinlan were using him for a very dangerous purpose that could get him killed, all without his knowledge. It felt _wrong_ , that much he was sure of. But then, that right there was the problem with attachment wasn’t it?

Even without the danger of the Dark Side, was the inevitability of placing his own personal feelings above the mission, above the greater good. That, he decided, was what any of the other Masters would have said to him, if he had been able to speak with them. What a struggle it was, to form a connection with someone who wasn’t, and had never, been part of the Order. If Anakin had only been a Jedi this wouldn’t be so difficult; he would already understand the dangers of attachment, wouldn’t be unknowingly pushing Ben’s boundaries.

No matter—escaping, rejoining the rebellion _that_ was what mattered, not his feelings. If Ben was getting his boundaries confused, well. He would just have to put more distance between the two of them. Anakin would understand. 

 

 

_The General’s Cellmate is Anakin Skywalker. Smalltime smuggler, incarcerated for aiding the rebellion. Motivations regarding the General currently unclear. Relationship with the General also unclear. More information needed._

Cody typed the message out and sent it off early in his cycle, before his shift had even started. There was very little information on Anakin Skywalker available on the holonet, or in the prison’s files. That probably meant that he was no one, had done nothing notable enough to put him on the Empire’s radar. Or, it could mean that he was important enough to keep his file somewhere more secure than Cody could get access to. That he couldn’t be sure which made him exceedingly uncomfortable.

The only way, it seemed, to get more information on the man was to ask the General. Or, of course, Skywalker himself. But if he _were_ someone of importance, especially someone working against him and his commanders, that might rouse his suspicion—and that of whoever he worked for.

Cody chewed on his thumbnail, thinking. He frowned then, pulling his hand away from his mouth. He looked down at his nails in mild concern. When had he started that habit? His nails were bitten ragged, he realized. It must have been days, weeks even. Clones, tools, couldn’t afford nervous habits.

He sighed, shaking his head and pulling his gloves and helmet back on. This mission needed to be completed as quickly as possible, for more reasons than one.

 

 

“Hey, Ben?” Anakin asked over their morning meal.

“Hm?” He asked, not looking up from his food. It was only the third thing he had said all morning and it wasn’t even an actual _word_. He had been acting strange, distant, since they got up and Anakin was starting to get annoyed. And maybe a little worried. He decided to forge on regardless.

“What was the craziest mission you took on while in the Order?” He mostly wanted to see if he could get Ben talking.

“I um,” Ben did look up then, blinking dazedly at Anakin and then Quin in turn. “I don’t…” It was only then that Anakin realized how tired he looked, skin paler than usual except for the dark rings under his eyes. He was sure then that something about Ben seemed off in a way he couldn’t quite place. Anakin vowed to ask him whether he was sleeping alright as soon as they were alone.

“He faked his own death once,” Quinlan chimed in brightly when Ben failed to respond.

“You _what_?” Anakin squawked, utterly sidetracked from his earlier train of thought.

“Didn’t even tell his own Padawan.”

“It had to be convincing!” Ben groaned, and Anakin got the feeling this wasn’t the first time they had had this conversation. “Aren’t you ever going to let me live that one down?”

“Well we did have a funeral so—”

“Tell me, tell me!” Anakin demanded, cutting off any further exchange.

“Alright,” Ben sighed, launching into one of the strangest stories Anakin had ever heard. And as a he had spent his fair share of time around space pirates, that bar was quite high.

 

“I can’t believe you took some guy’s face. I didn’t even know that was possible,” Anakin mumbled, mostly to himself, shaking his head in disbelief as they were left alone in their cell.

“I didn’t _take_ his face it was just…replicated.”

“Still, wild.” Ben let out a long yawn then, and Anakin remembered what he had wanted to ask him earlier. “Hey, did you sleep alright last night? You seem exhausted. You’re not sick are you?”

“No, no I’m fine,” Ben said, taking a step back. It was only then that Anakin realized how close they had been standing. It didn’t mean anything; it was a small cell and the guard had crowded them in the door before he left. But it seemed to mean something to Ben, who was putting as much distance as the tiny room would allow and picking at the hem of his uniform looking like he would rather be anywhere else

“You sure? Maybe you should lay down for a little while.”

“Yes, I think I will.” Ben immediately sat on his bed, fluffing the flat pillow and turning to lay facing the wall. “You should…meditate,” he said haltingly.

“Yeah…okay.”

They didn’t speak anymore after that, but Anakin knew Ben wasn’t sleeping from the uneasy waves he could feel emanating off of him. Okay, so something was definitely wrong with Ben. Anakin had never seen him so visibly uncomfortable, but he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe it was the conversation the two of them had the day before. Maybe it had stirred up unpleasant memories for Ben and that’s why he hadn’t slept well.

Kark, he really shouldn’t have brought that up after all. Anakin frowned, thinking. Ben may not want to talk about what it was that was bothering him, but stewing in his feelings on his own didn’t seem to be doing him any good. He thought that they were getting closer, but maybe not. Anakin frowned, wondering how he could show Ben that he was reliable, that he could be trusted.

 

 

“Your boy’s learned a lot,” Quin said, breaking the silence between he and Ben as they worked side by side.

“He’s not my—” Ben stopped himself; there was no point. “Yes he has progressed very quickly, especially given our limited circumstances,” he said, gesturing to the prison around them.

“Yeah, so about those circumstances—since he’s learned so much and all, don’t you think it’s time we started to talk about the plan?” Quin whispered, leaning in close.

“Th-the plan?” Ben swallowed heavily, a cold feeling of dread settling in his gut. Right. The plan, the greater good and all that.

“Yeah, the plan to get the kriff out of here. Y’know the whole reason you started training the kid in the first place?”

“Don’t you think that’s moving a little fast? I haven’t been training him very long at all. I’m not sure he’s ready,” Ben said quickly, almost without thinking.

“Really?” Quin gave him a blatantly skeptical look, head tilted and one eyebrow raised. “You sure your judgement isn’t clouded?”

“Clouded? By what?” Ben asked, feeling the heat rising up his neck.

“I don’t know, concern for the kid. Maybe a bit of attachment?”

“Wh—no. I just think if he has more training, we’ll be more likely to get out of here alive. And besides,” he added. “I don’t know that we’ve fully ingratiated ourselves to him yet—he could still turn us in as soon as we ask him for help escaping.”

“Tch, please,” Quin scoffed.

“What?”

“Oh come on. You have to see how he looks at you; it’s so adorable I can barely stand to be around the two of you.”

Ben didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t sure how Anakin felt about him. He hadn’t _let_ himself consider how Anakin felt. Force, and he thought breaking out of prison was going to be the most complicated part of his life.

“I…well either way I still think we should give him more time,” he said with an air of finality, trying to convey all the confidence he didn’t feel.

“Alright,” Quinlan acquiesced. “We’ll do it your way. But don’t forget: eyes on the prize, Kenobi.”

 

 

With his mind as tied up in knots as it had been all day, Ben had forgotten to check his datapad for messages until that evening. It was still another hour and a half until lights out when he pulled up the new message from Cody. It was longer than the others had been, explaining how Cody had been working with other clones whose chips had malfunctioned or been deactivated. That gave him hope; at least the entirety of the former GAR wasn’t on the side of the Empire.

Unless he was lying, of course. But…Ben remembered how confident Anakin had been in telling him that he believed Cody. Maybe there was no merit to his words—it wasn’t as if Anakin was very well acquainted with Cody or their situation—but Ben couldn’t help but believe it as well. Ben sat there for a moment, reading over the message again and planning his reply. Quin had wanted him to ask how Cody came to be in the prison and why he was contacting Ben now. Although Ben wanted to trust Cody, Quin wasn’t wrong; they were important questions that needed answers. He nodded to himself and began typing. This was good, he thought. Once he understood the situation more fully, he could explain it all to Quinlan and they would all, finally, be on the same page.

“What are you smiling about?” Anakin asked, sounding pleased. Ben hadn’t even realized he _had_ been smiling.

“Oh, nothing really. I just think you were right, about my friend.”

Anakin blinked for a moment before his face lit up in comprehension. “Hey that’s great,” he said, standing up from where he’d been sitting in the single chair in their cell. “So you’re feeling better?”

Ben opened his mouth, intending to insist that he had been feeling fine all along, but then he caught the undercurrent of worry on Anakin’s face. Denying it would only cause him further concern. “Yes,” he said instead. “I’m feeling much better, thank you.”

“That’s good,” Anakin said, tension visibly draining from his posture. “I was just…” Ben waited patiently while he hesitated, eyes trained on his feet. “Well I was worried I’d brought up some bad memories yesterday. When I asked about your past, y’know.”

“Oh, no Anakin it wasn’t—”

“And I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard Ben speak. “I won’t push anymore but I’m here if you _do_ wanna talk.” His hands fidgeted at his sides as if he were looking for pockets where there were none.

“Anakin,” Ben said firmly, rising to stand in front of him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just…worried about my friend.” It wasn’t a _complete_ lie, he rationalized to himself.

“Yeah?” Anakin asked uncertainly, finally meeting his gaze.

“If anything you actually helped,” Ben smiled encouragingly. Suddenly he was enveloped in a hug, two strong arms pulling him in so quickly he nearly lost his balance. A soft _oof_ was knocked out of him as Anakin squeezed him tight.

“I really am alright,” he insisted. It wasn’t more than an instant of hesitation though, before he wrapped his arms around Anakin, returning the embrace.

“I know. You just felt so...unhappy before, in the Force, I guess. I dunno, once you told me what it was it’s like I can’t _not_ notice it.”

It was strange, Ben thought, that Anakin would be able to pick up on such subtleties as changes in his mood through the dampeners. Whether Anakin was even more powerful than he had initially thought, or he was just particularly attuned to Ben specifically, one thing became clear then. Simply putting distance between them wasn’t a viable option. Anakin may have understood if he were a Jedi, but he wasn’t. Then again, neither was Ben. Not anymore.

The hug was warm inside and out, and instantly comforting. Force, he had forgotten how _indulgent_ attachment could feel. But the guilt at the pit of his stomach ached then too, and he wondered how escaping could be worth hurting this kind man who had come to trust him so much.

“And don’t worry Ben, you won’t be in here forever,” Anakin said softly, breath tickling his neck.

“How did you—?”

“Know you were thinking about getting out of prison?” He finished Ben’s question, finally letting him go. “Well first off, it’s prison. Everyone is thinking about getting out of here.”

Ben snorted at that. “I suppose that’s true. You have to know no one in the Empire will ever release me of their own volition.” That was what made a prison break so vital, he didn’t say.

“Yeah, well. I’m not gonna let you rot in here for the rest of your life. Kark whatever the Empire has to say about it.” There was a stubborn set to his jaw and Ben just knew there was no point in arguing. Besides, this was what he wanted, the kind of loyalty he had been working toward, wasn’t it? Somehow that didn’t make him feel any better.

“Alright, well let’s just work on your training for now. Leave the future to the future,” he said, offering a smile he knew was tight. Anakin pursed his lips for a moment before shrugging, deciding not to press the issue. For now.

Anakin’s curiosity wouldn’t wait in the wings forever though. No, the time for escape was approaching rapidly, and there was only so much Ben could do to postpone the inevitable.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: https://marchofbirds.tumblr.com for more obikin stuff and other wonderful nonsense


	12. Chapter 12

 

The following correspondences Cody had with the General were enlightening as they spoke back and forth on what life under the Empire and within the prison entailed. Cody still wasn’t sure whether he had gained the man’s trust however. The General showed little hesitation in filling him in on what he had been up to the last few years. Not specifics, of course, but that wasn’t what Cody had been after anyway. That seemed like a good sign. But for all of his willingness to tell Cody about himself, he was remarkably close-lipped regarding any information on Anakin Skywalker.

From what Cody could garner, Skywalker had indeed been a mere smuggler before his imprisonment. The General was teaching Skywalker about the Force, believing he had a good deal of potential—though he did claim that training the man was mostly just a way to pass the time. That was all well and good, but something about it struck Cody as strange as if there was something the General wasn’t telling him. General Kenobi seemed rather protective of Skywalker for someone he hardly knew. He still didn’t have the full picture on Skywalker, and if he and the General were as close as they seemed, this might pose a problem if he wasn’t on their side.

Admittedly, he had no reason to think Skywalker wasn’t loyal to General Kenobi. But unknown variables made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t have anyone knowing what his superiors were planning just yet. So Cody bided his time, reported to his commander, talked to his General, found out what he could, and waited.

 

 

Anakin was not a patient man. He would readily admit to that. Patience, waiting, had always seemed such a waste of time. When Anakin wanted something, he reached out and took it. But Ben was different. He wasn’t just something Anakin wanted.

Granted, he _did_ want him. Badly. But it was more than that. Anakin had never had a serious relationship, not really. A life of smuggling wasn’t exactly steady or predictable and most of the beings he met weren’t the kinds he wanted to bring home to his mother. Prison though, he thought ruefully, had a way of  _forcing_  life to catch up with him by leaving him with nowhere to run.

Anakin wasn’t shy, and generally had no problem approaching people he was interested in. It was just that Ben could be so…confounding. First there was the conversation they had about relationships, which did very little to clarify whether Ben was willing or available. And after that, Anakin had spent the last few weeks dropping increasingly obvious hints and had yet to figure out where he and Ben stood exactly. Ben certainly hadn’t rejected him, and in fact he seemed receptive. But truth be told, Anakin wasn’t sure whether it was personal or not. The more time he spent with Ben, the more he came to realize that he was, well, a flirt.

Anakin started off subtle, safe. Not long after their conversation about Ben’s past relationships, they were sat in their cell together as usual, preparing to begin their evening meditation session. It wasn’t a proper opening, not really. But they _were_ alone, and it wasn’t as if there were many opportunities for romance in prison anyway. So, Anakin took what he could get.

“And then Quin tried to convince the council that the pirates had _brainwashed_ us into drinking all of that Corellian rum, which is the last mission they ever put me on with him. Apparently he was a bad influence on me,” Ben laughed and, oh, Anakin thought that was a beautiful sound. Ben had been laughing more lately, telling more stories about his time in the Order. 

Anakin threw his head back, laughing just a little longer than he otherwise might have—though it was a funny story. He put a hand on Ben’s arm, eyes deliberately darting down to his lips before meeting his gaze. It was a classic move really.

“I wish I coulda been there,” Anakin said, still smiling at him.

“You know what, me too. Though I doubt you would have improved the situation.”

“Oh no, absolutely not. I would be right there with Quinlan convincing you to drink the rest of the rum.”

Ben laughed warmly, leaning forward and placing a hand on top of Anakin’s where it still rested on Ben’s arm. Okay, this was a good sign. “Be honest though, you didn’t need all that much convincing to break the rules, did you?”

Ben quirked one eyebrow up in an expression Anakin was quickly growing familiar with. Although, in this situation he wasn’t sure whether Ben was more surprised or intrigued. “No, I suppose I didn’t,” he said, and was it Anakin’s imagination or did his voice sound a bit thicker than usual?

_Kriff it_ , he thought, deciding to take it as the opening he wasn’t sure it was. Again, patience had never been Anakin’s strong suit. But then Ben pulled his arm away, pushing at Anakin’s shoulders.

“Alright, you’ve stalled long enough. Time to meditate.” And just like that, Anakin’s heart hit a duracrete wall.

“I, I wasn’t—”

“Mhmm, no arguments then,” Ben said, gesturing for him to sit on the floor as they always did while meditating. Anakin sighed in resignation, following the order. He hadn’t realized how nervous he had been until Ben broke the spell of the moment.

Nothing about this interaction was conclusive; Ben had been flirting back. Hadn’t he? He would just have to try again, Anakin thought before closing his eyes and breathing deep, attempting to let go of his thoughts and slip into a meditative state.

 

Anakin wasn’t sure whether he should count that as a success or not. But it certainly wasn’t a rejection. So, a few days later, he tried again. Ben was going over Anakin’s latest form during their rec hour— a form which Anakin had found no trouble memorizing. Not that he was going to share that fact with Ben just yet.

“Like this?” Anakin asked, deliberately putting his foot in the wrong position and turning his hand the wrong way.

“Not quite,” Ben said, patient as always. “Face your palm outward, and shift your left foot just a bit.”

“I’m not sure I understand. Could you help? Just, put me in the right position?” Anakin looked up at Ben through his eyelashes, biting his lip and doing his best to sound as innocent as he wasn’t.

“Oh, yes I suppose so.” Ben glanced around to make sure there weren’t any guards watching them before stepping up behind Anakin. His arms encircled him loosely, hands coming up to grasp Anakin’s wrists. “So you want to relax your shoulders and turn your palm outward, like this.” He repositioned Anakin’s hand with a gentle grip, his breath tickling the back of Anakin’s neck as he spoke. _Forget relaxing anything_ , Anakin thought, his heartbeat picking up.

“And your stance needs to be just a bit wider,” Ben said, positioning one of his legs between Anakin’s and nudging at the inside of his leg.

He couldn’t quite feel Ben’s chest pressed against his back, but he could feel the heat radiating off of him and it was all Anakin could do not to arch into the touch and ruin the perfect stance Ben had put him in.

“How’s that feel?” Ben asked, speaking almost directly into his ear.

“Good,” Anakin breathed. “It feels really good.” Ben still hadn’t let go. His hands lingered on Anakin’s arms, leg still situated between his and Anakin felt his breath hitch. This was it—

But then Ben stepped back, putting a healthy amount of distance between the two of them. “Alright, let’s move into the next stance then,” he said brightly, once again shattering the moment Anakin had worked so hard to create.

“R-right.” He looked up to see Quin a few feet away, rolling his eyes. Anakin resisted the urge to flip him off, instead shifting into the next position in the form.

 

And so it had gone on like that for weeks. _Weeks_. And Anakin still didn’t have an answer. Although Ben had never rebuked him, he also never seemed to initiate their strange little encounters. And Anakin was pretty sure he had seen Ben making smoldering eyes at just about everyone he spoke to.

Meanwhile, Anakin who by the way was not what anyone would call inexperienced, still felt himself blush down to the roots of his hair every time their fingers brushed. The situation was becoming, in a word, infuriating.

Anakin was sat on his workbench, almost mindlessly working on some bit of machinery he had been assigned to, going over all the evidence yet again. Ben had said he’d had relationships, serious ones even. He had to have some experience. And, really, with a face like that there was no way even the Jedi Order kept him completely celibate.

And beyond just the physical, he and Ben got on really well. Anakin was even getting better at making the man loosen up and laugh once in a while—a feat he wouldn’t have thought possible when he first met him. He should really just go for it, approach the issue head-on like he did with nearly every other aspect of his life. Anakin, after all, was anything but a coward.

He just needed a plan.

“I need to talk to you,” a voice came from behind Anakin, startling him out of his thoughts. He turned to see one of the guards, helmeted and faceless as all the rest. But this wasn’t just any guard.

“Cody, right?” Anakin asked, trying to hide the fact that he had almost fallen out of his chair in shock.

“That’s right. I need to talk to you about…Ben Kenobi.”

“What about him?” Anakin bristled slightly then. He still wasn’t completely sure about the clone’s loyalties, though he was being honest when he told Ben he trusted his judgement.

“I’m not sure how to say this,” the clone paused then and Anakin wished he could see his expression, to try and figure out what he would say next. “I want to ask about the nature of your relationship.”

Well, no matter what expression he had been wearing, Anakin would not have expected that.

“What?” How closely had Cody been watching them? Did he see the incident during rec hour or—

“It’s just that in the war, he was my general. It was my job to watch his back.”

_Until you tried to shoot him in it_ , Anakin thought, biting the insides of his cheeks. He needed to wait, find out what Cody’s angle was.

“I suppose I’m still trying to do that. You seem close to him; I just wanted to know whether you have his best intentions in mind.” His speech was halting and sounded as awkward as Anakin felt. Was he getting the shovel talk from Ben’s former clone commander? Or was it something else?

“I, um,” he sputtered, unsure of what the score was between Cody and Ben. He didn’t want to divulge too much information, just in case. “We’re friends. He’s been teaching me about the Force.” Cody had to know that much already, he thought. “You know I’m gonna tell him about this conversation, right?” He added hastily. He knew he sounded defensive, to Anakin’s surprise it seemed to actually come as a relief to Cody. Though it was hard to tell without being able to see his face, his stance did seem to relax a fraction.

“So you…care about him?”

“Yes,” Anakin answered instantly. “He’s, he’s a good person, and I care a lot about him.” It felt strange saying as much out loud, especially to a complete stranger, but.

“Good, good,” Cody nodded.

“And what about you?” Anakin asked before he could stop himself. “You’re not gonna try to kill him again are you?”

Just like that, Cody’s posture stiffened up again. “No. I…didn’t have a choice in that matter, before.” Anakin was sure if he could see the clone’s face, it would be twisted into a very hurt position right about then.

“Ben told me there was a chip in your brain?” Anakin shuddered to think about how that must have felt, the lack of autonomy. It sounded a lot like being a slave. Cody just nodded silently. “But it’s out now, right?”

“Yeah, I’m not…being controlled anymore.”

“Good, that’s good.” Anakin thought about telling Cody about his own history with a lack of freedom of choice, but then Cody continued.

“You know he’s in here for life, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Ben— they’re never going to let him out of this place.”

Anakin’s heart dropped like a stone then. Ben had never told him how long he expected to be imprisoned and he honestly hadn’t thought about it. But it made sense; of course the Empire would never let a Jedi out of prison. “Oh.”

“I just want to help him.”

“Help him to…break out?” Anakin asked, voice barely above a whisper as if he expected a horde of guards to appear out of the walls at the mere mention of escape. The closest guard was half a room away and didn’t seem to be paying them any mind.

“Help him in any way I can,” Cody said, voice steely. Anakin didn’t know what to say to that so he just nodded. “Anyway. It was good to talk with you. I’d better go; your shift is almost over.”

“Right. See you.”

Cody turned and walked out, leaving Anakin (mostly) alone with his thoughts. He felt more confused than ever. The conversation had cleared up one uncertainty he had however. He had been right in encouraging Ben to trust his instinct with Cody. He was sure of it now: the guard was definitely on Ben’s side.

 

 

It had been an eventful few weeks for Ben. And being that he was in prison, that was unusual to say the least. He and Cody had been sharing messages back and forth regularly. He was really starting to believe that he was right not to give up on the former commander, and having another link to his past life as a Jedi Knight was, surprisingly, comforting. He still wasn’t sure what Cody’s reappearance in his life meant in the larger scale of things, or how he would get Quinlan on board with trusting him though.

Meanwhile, Anakin had been acting exceedingly strange. First, it seemed like they were becoming closer, which was wonderful, if confusing. Ben still wasn’t sure how to approach his feelings regarding Anakin versus his lingering attachment to the code. But he couldn’t deny that being close to Anakin made him feel warm in a way he hadn’t in a long, long time. But then, suddenly, Anakin seemed distant, withdrawn. For two days in a row, the two of them hardly spoke. He had hoped whatever it was would resolve itself, but then he began to wonder if he hadn’t done something to upset Anakin. Well, they hadn’t called him The Negotiator for nothing; he could fix this.

So, on the third morning in a row that the other man lay in bed pretending to sleep for another few minutes rather than greet Ben, and the day, he stood up and asked, “Anakin, is everything alright?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you have a life sentence?”

“What?”

“I…I talked to Cody the other day.” _What_?

“What?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was going to but, I don’t know I needed time to think.” He bit his lip, looking terribly sad then. “We didn’t talk for long but he said that they’re never gonna let you out of here. I guess I should have realized that, that as long as the Emperor is in power you’ll be stuck here. I’m sorry.”

It was then that Ben realized why Anakin had been so withdrawn. He wasn’t angry, he was feeling guilty.

“Oh. Anakin it’s alright. You have enough to worry about. You’re in prison too, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I know, Ben,” Anakin laughed, though his face still looked heartbroken. “But you didn’t even do anything wrong! I guess I just wish I could help.”

That, right there, that was Ben’s opening! This was the perfect opportunity to tell him that with his budding connection to the Force he would be invaluable to staging an escape.

Instead, all he said was, “Thank you, Anakin. I’ll let you know if there’s anything you can do.”

“Yeah, alright.” Ben could all but hear Quinlan’s voice in the back of his head, scolding him for not seizing the opportunity. He told himself it just wasn’t time quite yet. Anakin could still change his mind, decide that it wasn’t worth gambling his life when he only had to serve a three year sentence. And if he thought Anakin was distant before, he couldn’t imagine how hurt he would be if he knew Ben had ulterior motives in befriending him. Besides, he still needed to figure out more about what role Cody was to play. Speaking of which,

“What else did you talk about with Cody?”

“Oh, it was strange. He asked me about our relationship, how close we are.”

“Wh—?” Ben’s confusion must have shown on his face because Anakin answered before he could get a word out.

“He said he’s watching your back. I think he just wanted to make sure I wasn’t some dangerous criminal mastermind or something.”

“Oh. And what did you tell him?” Ben asked, feeling strangely nervous all of a sudden.

“That he has nothing to worry about from me because I…care about you,” he said quietly. And Ben may have been imagining things, but he could swear Anakin was blushing just then.

“Oh.” Ben didn’t know why this flustered him so much; it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that Anakin cared about him. It wasn’t any grand confession of feelings. It still felt significant somehow. “Thank you, I care about you too Anakin.”

Anakin just smiled and nodded, still looking quite pink. Well, it seemed Ben was back to having to confront his feelings.

“So, uh, I don’t know if you’ve come to any conclusions, but I think you were right about him. Cody, I mean—that he’s trustworthy.”

“Good, yes I was thinking the same,” he breathed out, feeling a bit relieved. It was nice to have someone else’s opinion on the matter. Ben felt much more confident in Cody’s alliances with Anakin’s input. So that was one problem solved at least. “Now we just need to convince Quin.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://marchofbirds.tumblr.com/


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for taking so long in between chapters-- double update! This one is a bit short but I feel like it's a special chapter anyway lmao

 

 

 

Life.

Ben would, in all likelihood, spend the rest of his _life_ in this place. The idea of kind, patient, beautiful Ben being locked up for life kept rattling around in Anakin’s mind. Of course, if he had really thought about it he would have realized that to be the case. It wasn’t as if the Emperor would let a former Jedi Knight out on good behavior.

But Anakin  _hadn’t_  really spent any time thinking about it. He had been too concerned with himself and his own measly sentence. Ben had told him he didn’t need to feel guilty, and he didn’t. For the most part.

What he kept circling back to though, were his feelings toward Ben, and what to do about them. If he really cared, if it wasn’t just another one of his meaningless flings, then how could he start something that had such an inevitable expiration date?

The truth was that in other circumstances he could see himself having a life with Ben. Maybe not the traditional home, steady job, kids life. Knowing the both of them it would involve a good deal of trouble and drama. The thought actually made him smile despite himself.

“Anakin? What are you thinking about over there?” Ben asked from across the dining table. He had a fond smile on, eyes looking as soft and kind as usual.

“Oh, uh, nothing. Just in a good mood.” Ben and Quinlan gave him strange looks and he knew they didn’t quite believe him.

Circumstances  _weren’t_  different though, he reminded himself. In two and a half years, Anakin would be free. Free to go back to his obscure and (relatively) uncomplicated life. And Ben would…still be here. 

Long term, he and Ben could never work. The reasonable, responsible thing to do would be to just let his feelings go. 

 

 

Cody was experiencing a feeling he was unfortunately becoming rather familiar with: apprehension. His conversation with Skywalker had, in his opinion, gone well. He had tested the waters and then planted a seed of information.

As expected, it didn’t seem that the General had told Skywalker how long the Empire intended to keep him imprisoned. If he really was as self-sacrificing as Cody remembered, he never would have told him. But things needed to be moved along, which meant the unknown variable that was Anakin Skywalker needed to be solved. And giving him the knowledge that Kenobi would likely spend the rest of his life in prison if the Emperor had his way might just provide enough incentive for him to prove his loyalties.

This seemed like a reasonable plan when Cody concocted it. The only problem was that he had come up with it himself, without consulting his superiors. He considered it, but they seemed very intent on moving the timeline along. If he stopped to get their approval every time he had to make a decision they wouldn’t get anywhere.

And besides, they had yet to truly discipline him for any of his previous mistakes, beyond a strict reminder of how important their work was. That didn’t mean they couldn’t start punishing him at any point they saw fit of course. But he had been ordered to trust his instincts, so that was what he did.

Or at least, that is what he told himself as he typed out an update and sent it out to his superiors. He could only hope they saw it the same way. And, of course, that he had been right about Skywalker.

  

 

Ben had thought that the conversation he and Anakin had cleared up the distance between them, but now he was starting to doubt himself. Anakin was still acting strangely that day, smiling to himself and then falling into long stretches of unexplained melancholy. Ben wondered if Anakin still felt guilty for not recognizing Ben’s life sentence for what it was earlier or if it was something else. Perhaps he should—

He heard a rather loud creaking from the mattress above him then and wondered what Anakin was doing up there to make so much noise. Then, turning his head, he realized the younger man had climbed out of the bunk. If it were almost anyone else crouched next to his bed in the dark, Ben would have been ready for a fight. But this was Anakin.

“What are you doing?” He asked, bewildered but not alarmed.

“Can I kiss you?” Came the whispered reply, surprisingly close.

“ _What?_ ” Ben didn’t know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that. Was this the reason he had been acting so off all day?

“Could I?”

“Are you asking because you feel guilty? Or you think you owe me? Because you know that’s not what I’m looking for.” He propped himself up on his elbows, trying in vain to get a better handle on the conversation.

“It’s not that; I just want to. I mean I’d  _really_ like to.” Ben couldn’t make out Anakin’s features clearly but he sounded anxious. “If that’s what you want too.”

“Oh, I…” he bit his lip, hesitating. It seemed the issue of whether to continue to adhere to his Jedi principles finally had to be dealt with. This seemed like a bad idea, like it could muddy the waters between them, or, “Yes, I do. Want that.”

Oh Force, what was he saying? There was no doubt in Ben’s mind then. He was definitely going to regret this.

But then soft lips were pressed against his own, Anakin’s arms bracketing him on either side and it was pleasant. More than.

He started slow, soft. But after a few long moments, Anakin had crawled in on top of Ben, body weight pressing him into the mattress as he deepened the kiss. Ben allowed it for another minute before hooking a foot around the back of Anakin’s knees and flipping them until he was on top. There wasn’t enough room in the bunk for him to sit up while straddling the other man but he made do, pinning his hands over his head and breathing against his lips.

“Don’t forget your place, Padawan.” He grinned down at him. Ben wasn't quite sure where this was coming from but then Anakin rolled his hips up to meet Ben's and he wasn't particularly worried about it.

“Yes  _Master_.” Anakin breathed, the glint of his smirk visible even in the near-dark. Ben’s cock twitched against the rough fabric of his prison sweats.

_Fuck_ , Ben knew he’d been right; he was going to regret this. 

 

 

Pinned underneath Ben, doing his level best to keep quiet, not to whine and risk alerting a guard, Anakin grinned. Ben wanted him too! And as for Anakin’s earlier reservations about making a move, well.

_Kriff it_ , he thought. When had Anakin ever been reasonable or responsible? All the Jedi training in the galaxy couldn’t change who he was. And this, being with Ben finally, felt right. So what if their relationship had a predetermined timeline?

A lot could still happen in two and a half years.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill: marchofbirds.tumblr.com for more obikin and other nonsense.


End file.
